The Solution
by RaifandRosefan
Summary: A year and a half after her first job, Ariadne is on the run from ruthless assassins. Ariadne and the gang will need to work quickly if she is to survive another day. The odds are not in their favor. Rated T for Language and Action Violence.
1. How to Survive an Attempt on Your Life

**A/N**: Hello everyone! This is my first fan fiction EVER! *YAY*

This one's gonna be primarily action, no slashiness or fluffiness (if I can help it). This story is gonna focus primarily on the professional relationship of all the team members – with a little friendship mixed in. I hope the characters are not too OOC.

Please leave reviews and comments it'll make my story better and make me warm and fuzzy!

_Italics_ = thoughts; "quotes" = speech; To allay any confusion: The story jumps between the past and the present.

Disclaimer: Chris Nolan made inception, I simply watched it and wrote this… that is all.

- RaifandRosefan

* * *

Chapter 1 – How to Survive an Attempt on Your Life

**Rule #1: Don't Believe in Coincidences **

_HOLY FUUUUUUUCK, _was the only thought Ariadne could manage. For the second time this month, the architect found herself running for her life.

On this grey November day, she had at least worn comfortable shoes, but that didn't make this chase any less terrifying! Her lungs and throat were raw and burned from struggling to breathe as she pushed her body to run faster than it ever had. The biting autumn air suffocated the architect who now wished she had joined the university's intramural track team when she had the chance. But that doesn't matter now, because Ariadne is running – no escaping – from two men who mysteriously appeared after her 9 am lecture with Professor Miles.

* * *

Ariadne assumed they were just regular office workers. It wasn't unusual to see men and women roaming the walkways of her campus during their coffee breaks. She lumped the two strange men in with the rest of the people amusing themselves between bouts of monotonous work.

Unfortunately, Ariadne was wrong.

_Why does this keep __**happening**__ to me!_ Ariadne demanded – to no one in particular, as she ran through a park where teens huddled around each other as they smoked their cigarettes, totally oblivious.

* * *

After her class with Professor Miles, Ariadne decided she would to go back to her apartment. She'd gotten up late that day and rushed to class before she could take a proper shower and eat breakfast. She was going home to catch up on her morning routine. This planned changed, however, when those two men in their neat corduroy pants and wool sweaters began to tail her.

Their presence was barely felt, at first.

Ariadne realized she had no desire to cook when she got home. So, she took a quick detour – dipping into a café to get breakfast – before heading home. It took little time for her order to be ready and she was off again, with coffee and breakfast sandwich in hand, toward her apartment.

As Ariadne waited at the crosswalk for the line of cars to pass, she looked to her left and saw one of the two men who were standing outside of her lecture hall. The man was looking at his watch and waiting to cross the adjacent street to the Ariadne's. Ariadne shrugged the man's presence off as mere coincidence. He probably worked or lived nearby. Tons of people took similar routes to work and home as she did… right?

A knot grew in Ariadne's stomach. If there is one thing she has learned from her new job, it's that coincidences are not to be ignored.

Ariadne walked briskly across the street. She opened the messenger bag she wore across her body and tossed her sandwich inside. The foil-wrapped sandwich smacked comfortingly against the 9mm she had jammed between her notebooks. _Can't have people seeing the outline of a gun in my bag now can we?_ Ariadne noticed the business man turned away from the street in front of him and was now following her. Ariadne picked up her pace. On the street running parallel to hers, another man – _the other guy outside Professor's office_ – was throwing threatening glances her way and matching her pace. _Oh shit_, Ariadne thought, _It's happening again! _Ariadne made a quick left turn, ducking into a crowded department store. The two men followed.

**Rule #2: Get Help**

The department store was enormous. _Big enough for me to get lost in_, she concluded as she pushed her way up the escalators. Winding through crowds of people, Ariadne pilfered items of clothing from unobservant shoppers. She pulled an unwitting stranger's brown hat over her head as she walked through the crowd . The architect looked around her, she didn't see the two men.

This made her nervous.

Ariadne determinedly scanned the crowed as she hurried toward the back entrance of the department store. She saw one of her pursuers on the floor above her looking down over the crowd. He hadn't seen her yet. _Good_. But he was watching the exit, meaning she couldn't leave now. _GAH! _Ariadne pulled her hat down lower over her head and locked arms with an average but visually pleasing young Parisian man who looked like he was lost himself.

"Bonjour," she said as she offered him a smile. The young man wore a surprised expression on his face. His eyes sparkled with a hint of playfulness and confusion. He didn't seem to mind her sudden presence on his arm. The two of them walked toward another wing of the large and hopelessly crowded store.

_Where's the other guy? I don't see him. I gotta call someone… Eames, Arthur – hell, I'll take DOM right now! _The young man on her arm was making pleasant small talk while Ariadne was too preoccupied to listen. That is, until his hand began waving in front of her face.

"Hoo, Hoo! Mademoiselle ? Est-ce qu'il y a un problème? Vous avez l'air d'avoir peur, " he said in a concerned and intimate tone. The sincere look on the kind stranger's face made Ariadne's stomach churn. No, she could not involve this young man in her life-threatening endeavors. After scanning the crowd for her pursuers and coming up with nothing, Ariadne smoothly reassured the young man that there was indeed no problem and that she was perfectly fine. She thanked him for his company in fluent and perfectly accented French, disappearing into the crowd before the young man could even think to ask for her number.

_Fuck! I am so fucked!_ Ariadne seethed as she wormed her way toward the exit.

Once outside, Ariadne took off like a lightning bolt, speeding toward the park, her short-cut to the warehouse. _Where else am I supposed to go,_ she reasoned.

Ariadne removed her cell phone from her bag and speed dialed Arthur. The phone rang once… twice… _Please God! Please! If I make it out of this alive, I'll quit smoking. I promise, _she begged. Arthur picked up the phone.

* * *

In the warehouse, the point man stood next to his desk, dressed in an immaculate Tom Ford three piece suit – minus the jacket, tie, and with shirt partially unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up. He answered the phone. What he heard on the other end was a frantic Ariadne who was severely out of breath!

"Help me!" She gasped, "two men – Chasing! I'm running toward – WAREHOUSE! Arthur!"

"Where are you now?" The point man asked, absolutely serious.

"The Park! …Rue Chambray! Hurry please!"

Arthur snapped his phone closed, turning toward his desk. Eames, wearing his usual look: expensive dress shirt and pants from the night before, sat not too far away. He noticed the change in the point man's demeanor.

An intense point man = an intense problem.

"What's wrong?" Eames asked as he stood up from his chair. Arthur reached into the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a gun. Arthur hid the gun in the side of his trousers.

"It's Ariadne. She's being chased by two men. She's in the park on Rue Chambray," Arthur explained as he slid his jacket on over his shoulders. Eames grabbed his car keys and coat, sliding his gun into the beltline of his pants. The forger and point man marched toward the warehouse door. Without another word, the two colleagues were speeding in the direction of Parc Rue Chambray.

* * *

**Rule #3: Don't Go Into Shock**

In a deserted section of the park, Ariadne is huddled behind a large concrete statue of Le Saint Chambray, _patron saint of people in way over their heads_,Ariadne thought. The first of many bullets blasted from her pursuers' guns. The architect hauled out her own gun from her bag, releasing the safety lock. A procession of bullets fly past her, some hitting the statue, causing her to wince.

The sound of metal pounding metal continues for many moments as Ariadne braces herself for her defense. Within seconds, Ariadne has swung her arm around the statue and is returning gunfire like the well trained professional she is. One of her bullets almost makes contact the with the taller of her two pursuers. Ariadne quickly ducks behind the old crap-stained statue. _You could show up any time now, Guys! That would be really appreciated!_ A bullet flies just above the architect's head, interrupting her thoughts. Ariadne returns gunfire before hiding once more behind the statue. _Fuck. _Ariadne reloads her gun.

* * *

Arthur attaches a silencer to Eames' gun as Eames swerves to avoid traffic.

"Arthur, we've got to sort out who these sodding pricks are! I don't want to be picking up pieces of our architect when they finally to get her!"

"Neither do I, Eames," said Arthur, sternly.

"So what should we do – I mean – once we've don't away with this situation in the park?"

"I'm not sure yet," Arthur admits.

Eames does not like that last statement at all.

* * *

Ariadne is bleeding. One of the pursuers' bullets tore through her left arm, missing the bone, but creating an excruciatingly painful flesh wound. Ariadne applies pressure to the wound, as blood trickles down her arm. Her grey sleeve has turned to crimson.

On the plus side, Ariadne managed to lodge a bullet in the heart of one of her pursuers, the shorter one. He now lies on the ground motionless and cold. But this is no victory. Ariadne is still in the middle of a shootout, in the middle of some park in Paris, with a giant hole in her arm, and a hailstorm of bullets raining over her, with a dead man, _whom she killed_, lying on the ground nearby. _Do people in Paris not believe in calling the police? Shouldn't there be someone here by now? Arthur? Eames? Anybody! I have a fucking hole in my arm and I'm gonna run out of magazines pretty soon! Fuck! Ariadne, Do. Not. Panic! _Ariadne does her best to remain calm as the situation around her deteriorates into madness.

The sound of screeching car tires catches Ariadne's attention. Arthur and Eames emerge from Eames' black sports car. Arthur runs towards Ariadne. Eames deftly – and silently – places a bullet between her pursuer's eyes. Next, Eames removes his cell phone from his pocket and takes pictures of the cadavers' faces.

Arthur takes in the architect's form. She is slumped over and pale. Arthur's dark eyes zero in on Ariadne's sticky scarlet fingers, _shit_.

"She's been hit!" Arthur yells to Eames. Eames pockets his phone and runs over to where Ariadne sits.

"We've got to get her to the emergency room before she goes into shock," Eames says, running toward his vehicle.

"It's just a flesh wound," Ariadne mumbles, her voice hollow, her breathing rapid, "what are we gonna do about the bodies…? We can't leave them… this is a park... there are children…"

Arthur pulls Ariadne up, she can barely support her own weight. "We can't stay. You need a hospital," he reasons, "the police will have to clear this up. The bullets and guns are untraceable, no one will know who killed them." Eames opens the rear door of the car to help Arthur place the architect on the back seat . The point man takes the towel given to him by Eames and makes a tourniquet for Ariadne's wound.

"Ari, love," Eames snaps his fingers to get Ariadne's attention, "you've lost a lot of blood. You mustn't go to sleep. Do you hear me?" He snaps again, "Ari?" Eames looks at the architect, nervous. "Ari, darling, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Eames," Ariadne answers, finally, "Please, be quieter. Your accent is making my head hurt." The architect is still snarky, even in the early stages of shock. Relieved, Eames and Arthur chuckle lightly.

"Well, answer me next time, and I won't have to be so loud, " Eames retorts, his voice smiling.

"We have to get out of here," Arthur reminds the forger. Eames is already in the driver's seat. Arthur closes the rear door and slides into the passenger's seat. The three teammates are off to the nearest hospital.

"Now I have a question," the weary architect begins.

"Yes?" Arthur asks, curious but somehow already knowing the architect's question.

"Who were those men? And why did they want to kill me?" Ariadne slurs.

The forger and point man's expressions grow dark with contemplation. It is Arthur who offers the unsatisfying answer.

"We don't know."

Ariadne wasn't sure if her head was spinning due to the motion of the vehicle or Arthur's words. Either way, she did not like it.

"This is not good. Not good at all."

Eames exhales a breath he'd been unintentionally holding. The vehicle pulls up to a hospital.


	2. The Backup Point

**A/N:** Hey everyone! Here's chapter two for you lovely readers! Thanks Twelvepastnever for your comment (it made me smile)! E-Hugs and E-kisses for you! And to my new friends who added me to your favorites…. THANKS!

So I'm just warning you, I added a new character to the story, I think you'll like her.

'_Quoted italics'_ = spoken words, used for emphasis

Disclaimer: This is Chris Nolan's fault! :D

- RaifandRosefan

* * *

Chapter 2: The Backup Point

They are parked just outside of the Emergency room. Eames swings his car door open. He zooms past some EMT's lifting a stretcher into a waiting ambulance and quickly returns with a wheelchair. Arthur, who has gotten out of his seat and opened the rear door of the car, lifts a weakened Ariadne out of the back seat and lowers her into the wheelchair. Ariadne remains silent, breathing rapidly. Eames reenters his vehicle, subsequently driving off in the direction of the parking lot. Arthur wheels Ariadne into the emergency room.

The sight of Ariadne, soaked in what appears to be her own blood, causes a small frenzy among the emergency room nurses who rush Ariadne into surgery. Arthur artfully fills out the paperwork given to him by an emergency room staff member. Fake names, fake addresses, and an imaginary general practitioner are given and Arthur quickly returns the paperwork. Moments later, the elevator doors open. Eames, worn out and looking less-than-amused, walks over to the dejected point man.

"How is she?" the forger asks, a worried look splayed across his face.

Arthur leans back in his seat. He rubs his hand over his face. "She's in surgery," he exhales, "She'll be in for another few hours."

"Bollocks." The forger relents. He slumps down in the chair next to Arthur, placing his feet up on the table in front of him.

Arthur sits up. "When she gets out of surgery, I'm going to ask that woman exactly what she's been up to in the past year," he states determinedly.

Eames shoots Arthur a curious look. "You don't think it a bit too soon to begin the inquisition, darling?"

"No one sends goons like that after someone unless they've got something to lose," Arthur says with more than a hint of malice, "She's gotten herself into something, and I don't know if she knows it."

Eames laughs unintentionally, "do you honestly think the woman has no idea she's in trouble? I mean, for Christ's sake Arthur, she's got an armada out there trying to kill her!" Eames pauses to look at Arthur's expression, a mixture of boredom and seriousness. Arthur is listening, "If we want to figure this out, we have to work with her, not treat her like some sort of child – God knows she would never tolerate that, nor does she deserve it." Eames unfolds and refolds his legs, still restung on the table in front of him.

"You suppose we should tell Dom?" Eames asks.

"He'd find out anyway," Arthur shrugs, as he takes out his phone to make the call.

The forger and point man wait in silence for Dom to answer his phone.

* * *

The surgeon, dressed in blue scrubs and a red cap, enters the waiting room with a smile on his face. He approaches Arthur and Eames. The two men get up from their seats. It is Eames who speaks first.

"So, Doc, how is our sister? Is she okay?" he asks, nervously.

"She iswonderfoll," the surgeon answers, smiling, "Ze surgerry went well. We 'ave her sleeping in eentenseeve care right now. You may visit her, if you like."

"Thank you, sir," Eames shakes the surgeon's hand gratefully.

"Thank you," Arthur repeats as he shakes the surgeon's hand. Arthur moves quickly to follow Eames toward the elevator.

* * *

On the third floor, Eames and Arthur exit the elevator. They walk down the hallway, stopping in front of room 305, Ariadne's room. Through the glass window they see their tiny architect sleeping, her arm bandaged with layers of gauze. Numerous IVs drip their nutritious contents into her ravaged body.

Arthur opens the door silently and the two of them step into the room. Eames closes the door behind them. The uncharacteristically anxious point man takes a seat on the chair next to the hospital bed. Eames leans against the window. Both men stare at the architect with a mixture of curiosity and worry.

Hours pass, and the architect begins to stir from her sleep. Eames - now sitting in the chair vacated by Arthur - is asleep, snoring quietly. Arthur stands outside of the room, on the phone with Dom.

"No… she's still asleep" Arthur answers. He rubs his eye. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he switches the subject of the conversation, "What did my guy tell you about Eames's photos? Any leads?"

Dom pauses, "er, yeah."

"And?" Arthur demands, noting Dom's sudden apprehension.

"Those guys are contracts. They work for The Council."

"WHAT?" Arthur nearly drops his phone. Nurses and hospital staff shoot admonishing looks at the point man who flashes an apologetic smile and continues his conversation in hushed tones.

"What do you mean they work for The Council?" Arthur almost whispers.

"I mean, someone's hired The Council to kill Ariadne. The Council sent those two agents after her this morning. Arthur, what has Ariadne been up to?" Dom asks – confused, more than worried.

"I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Eames pokes his head out of the door, "She's awake."

"She's awake. Let me call you back," Arthur ends the call and walks back into the room where Ariadne sits up in bed, awake.

Eames sits at the foot of the bed. Arthur closes the door behind him and moves to standnext to Eames.

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asks the young woman appraisingly.

"Like I got hit by something big and yellow," Ariadne offers with a weak smile. Eames chuckles. "How long was I out?"

"A few hours. It's 6 pm," Arthur answers.

"You gave us quite a scare there, sweetheart," Eames says petting her leg. "Anyway, the nurse said we could get you out of here as soon as you were ready."

"Oh, I'm ready," Ariadne says with gusto, "I just need my clothes." Ariadne points to the bag resting on the table across the room. Arthur carries the bag over to the architect who begins rifling through its contents.

"Would you boys excuse me, please?"

"Of course, darling. I'll be outside if you need me" Eames says. Both Eames and Arthur walk toward the door. Eames closes the blinds facing the hallway. They exit.

Outside of the room, Arthur turns toward the forger, "Hand me your keys, I'll go get the car." Eames tosses his keys to the point men who easily catches them. Turning on his heels, Arthur walks toward the elevator. The Englishman leans against the door to room 305. He waits.

* * *

The elevator dings as it reaches parking level P1. The doors open. Arthur steps out into the cold gray parking structure, looking for Eames' Italian sports car. He spots it not long after beginning his search, Eames has taken up two parking spots. _Of course he would_, Arthur thinks humorously.

Arthur presses the "unlock/start engine" button on the car's remote. Flames blast from the car, causing the hood to fly up and crash down on the vehicle's windshield. Fire engulfs the engine, eating its way to the back of the vehicle, where a second explosion lifts the car off the ground. Arthur ducks behind a nearby vehicle, pulling out his gun. A few meters away, gun weilding footsteps race toward Arthur, who breaks the window of a car he is hiding behind and unlocks it. The alarm goes off. Arthur enters the vehicle, pulling wires from behind the dashboard. He touches two recognizable wires against one another. Bullets blast through concrete and metal. Glass shatters. _C'mon, work. Yes! _The engine roars awake. Arthur throws the car into reverse. Bullets follow as Arthur races toward the exit.

* * *

Ariadne is fully dressed in her bloody clothes from that morning. She and Eames stand outside the hospital entrance. Eames gets a call on his cell phone – it's Arthur. Eames answers,

"Arthur, where are you?"

"Listen, there's no time! You need to get Ariadne out of there, now! Someone attached an explosive to your car. I triggered it, and now they're coming after me. I can handle these guys, but you need to get out of there, now!"

"Okay," says Eames resolutely.

"Meet at the backup point!" Arthur ends the call. Eames heads in the direction of the street, Ariadne follows. The forger makes a right as he reaches the sidewalk.

"What's happened to Arthur, Eames?" Ariadne asks with the seriousness of a trained killer.

"The men chasing you attached an explosive to my car. Arthur just set it off and now they're chasing him." Eames explained, all humor gone from his face.

"Shit. I'm sorry Eames," Ariadne states, "I never expected this." _Yes you did_, Ariadne thinks, her mind running away from her. She shakes the thought from her head.

Eames walks over to a parked car, a navy blue convertible cabriolet. It takes less than two minutes for the forger to break in and hot wire the car. The dream stealers take off in their stolen vehicle. "We're headed to the backup point, aren't we?" Ariadne infers. She receives only a nod from the forger.

* * *

It is night, and the moon has risen in the sky. Arthur stands in a deserted parking lot on the edge of a river. His dark eyes stare coldly at the glistening body of water in front of him. The point man pushes his stolen vehicle, whose gear shift has been set to neutral, toward the river. Inside of the vehicle lay the lifeless bodies of the two men who had tried to kill him. The vehicle falls into the river. The water bubbles as the car sinks further and further into the river. _That's taken care of._

Arthur turns his attention to his pursuers' vehicle, a black van with tinted windows. He walks over to the rear of the van, opening its doors. Inside are racks upon racks of weaponry. Arthur removes the weapons from their racks and loads them into the trunk of a third vehicle – stolen, of course – that sits not too far from the van.

After unloading the vehicle, Arthur picks up a large stone sitting on the ground nearby. Arthur leans the stone against the gas pedal of the large van. The van races toward the river. It lands with a splash in the water before sinking to the river's depths.

* * *

At the backup point, a crumbling yet elegant apartment owned by Zelda Frasier, a grey-haired Englishwoman in her sixties with a penchant for smoking, drinking and cursing, Ariadne and Eames sit drinking tea. They are being entertained by Zelda who is regaling them with stories of her early days in dream-sharing. Ariadne and Eameslaugh wholeheartedly at the silly mistakesthat occurred from Zelda's chemist mixing the wrong compounds and gasped at the disastrous mistakes out in the field which resulted in deaths. Finishing her story, Zelda places her teacup squarely on her coffee table – she didn't care for coasters. Zelda looks at Ariadne and Eames, all gaiety gone from her countenance.

"Now," she says, "you lot have come to pay me a visit, which if I remember correctly, only happens when something is terribly wrong. So, what sort of shit have you rousted this time?"

Zelda waits, patiently serious, as Ariadne and Eames exchange looks. Neither of them wants to tell the woman how much trouble they've brought to her doorstep.

"Someone better tell me soon, or I'll start shooting kneecaps." Zelda takes another sip of her tea.

It is Ariadne who answers. "People keep trying to kill me and none of us knows why or who they are. They shot me in the arm this morning, and tried to kill me in the hospital before we got here."

"I see," Zelda says smiling dangerously, "It seems you have a dead-man problem."

Ariadne is confused, "a what?"

Eames offers and explanation, "a dead-man problem, it's a situation where a dreamer, the dead-man, is the target of assassins, known as dead-man makers, who've been hired to kill the dreamer. It's not a term widely used anymore, it was coined in the 80s. Nowadays, people tend to just say '_someone's trying to kill me._' But I think 'dead-man problem' carries more weight. Don't you, Zelda?"

"Of course, Eames, and I will excuse your sly attempt to age me, darling," Zelda takes another sip of her tea. Eames offers his toothy schoolboy smile to the grey-haired woman. Zelda smilingly waves him off, "Now the question is: who wants you dead?"

The front door swings open. Zelda grabs her 9mm from under her chair and points it at the intruder. Arthur drops his key, lifting his hands above his head. At the sight of the young man, Zelda lowers her gun. She gets up from her seat to hug Arthur, smiling.

"You shouldn't scare me like that Arthur," Zelda admonishes, laughing, "I nearly killed you! Come, have a seat. I'll get you some tea." Zelda disappears into the kitchen. Arthur takes a seat on the couch next to Ariadne. Zelda returns with a new cup of tea. She hands the cup to the grateful point man. "So, your architect was just telling me she has a dead-man problem..." Zelda takes another sip of her tea.

"Yes, and I know who the dead-man maker is."

"Who?" Ariadne demands.

Arthur places his teacup on the coffee table. The point man looks at the architect, "The Council. Someone has sent The Council after you."

"Oh hell," Eames utters.

"Are you sure?" Ariadne is terrified.

"Yes. I had Cobb check Eames' pictures. They were definitely working for The Council."

"Bloody hell," Eames spits, "How the fuck are we going to fight The Council? We'd need a fucking army!"

_What does The Council want with me?_ Ariadne thinks, _I haven't done anything wrong! Well, relatively speaking._

"Maybe you did and you didn't realize," Eames looks at the architect, out of ideas. Ariadne didn't realize she'd been thinking out loud and that Eames, sitting closest to her in his chair, had heard her.

Zelda slams her teacup on the coffee table, "Would someone mind telling me, who the fuck is The Council?"

"They're an agency, of assassins. People hire The Council when they want someone absolutely dead," Arthur explains.

"As opposed to figuratively dead," Eames finishes.

Arthur continues, "The Council has agents all over the world."

Zelda's eyes brighten with understanding. She looks at Ariadne, "And now they're after her."

"Yes," Arthur answers sadly.

The grey-haired woman, the forger and the point man all look at Ariadne, whose expression turns glum under their intense gaze. Taking a cigarette out of the pack resting on the coffee table and lighting said cigarette, Zelda asks the question on everyone's mind, "What the fuck did you do, to get you on The Council's shit list?"

* * *

**A/N:**(sorry if you had any problem reading this, I had to replace the chapter) This is gonna be a fairly slow moving Fic. I don't want to rush the buildup of the story. Also, I know you're wondering when you'll see Dom and Yusuf (and Saito *hehe*)… don't worry, I haven't forgotten them. They will appear soon enough. Oh and I hope you liked the new character. I tried to make her a badass. In my mind, she was a badass before being a badass was badass.


	3. Of Inception and Engagement Rings

**A/N:** Hello Everyone!

I realize I'm spoiling you all by updating often. I don't promise this will last forever, but while I can, I will continue to spoil my lovely readers!

So, to allay any confusion: This **story **occurs a year and some months after the movie. A lot has happened to our characters, since we last saw them.

This chapter picks up a few minutes after the previous one. Don't worry I rehash everything you might have missed during the break. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Christopher Nolan likes paradoxes and changing centers of gravity.

- RaifandRosefan

* * *

Chapter 3: Of Inception and Engagement Rings 

"Son of a whore," Zelda mumbles to herself, astonished. She takes a drag off her cigarette. Cigarette-in-mouth, Zelda escapes to the kitchen to make more tea. Eames sits in stunned silence.

_Surely Ariadne is lying. She couldn't have done it again! No…_

"I'm not saying I'm sure that job is the cause of all this. I'm just saying it's possible," Ariadne reasons. She takes another sip of her tea.

Flabbergasted, Arthur pauses before speaking.

"You… performed Inception… Again? How did I not know about this?" Arthur asks, his voice melding with his stupefied expression.

"Well, if I recall correctly," Eames smiles dirtily, "you were too busy shagging your fiancée, darling."

Ariadne nearly chokes. _What did Eames just say?_

"Oh, and what's your excuse, Eames? You couldn't hear the news over the loudness of your shirts?"

"Oh -!"

"Wait!" Ariadne interrupts, "Arthur, you're engaged?"

"Correction," Eames intrudes, "He **was** engaged. Don't act so surprised, Ari. Arthur, here, is a catch!"

"I was going to tell you," The point man concedes, "but she and I broke up, and there was nothing left to tell." The point man exhales.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ariadne sympathizes.

"It's fine."

"Anyway, we've got bigger problems," Eames reminds.

Eames turns his focus to Ariadne, "Ari, love, tell us more about this inception. Who was it for? And more importantly, why wasn't I invited?"

Zelda returns with a teapot made of fine China, she pours more tea into everyone's cups. Ariadne waits until Zelda is seated to begin.

"The thing is, we'd all gone our separate ways since Saito's inception job, and I was in need of more money.

"Earlier this year, my grandmother was diagnosed with stage II lymphoma, and I needed some cash to pay the bills for her visits to various specialists. So, I talked to that guy Eames told me about," Ariadne wiggles her fingers, trying to remember, "The one who sets up those meetings and gets teams together...?" Arthur, Eames, and Zelda nod, "Yeah, well he called me a few months later about performing a job on this young business owner. He wasn't anyone major or anything, he didn't know about extraction or dream sharing, so the risk was supposed to be minimal…

"Anyway, the guy tells me the salary and I'm like, 'Well, duh! Of course I'm doing this job! It's low risk, it pays enough money to cover my bills – why wouldn't I take this job? So, I fly to New Jersey to meet the new team. Everyone was nice, y'know? They were much friendlier than you guys were when I first met you, actually." Arthur stiffens at this comment, Eames smiles. Ariadne continues.

"I mean, they didn't have the intensity you all do, but that's why you are the best. But I digress; it wasn't until we began discussing the mark and our mission that I learned we would be performing inception. That's why the team wanted me. They heard about the job we'd done on Fischer and wanted me to be their architect."

"So you showed them how to perform inception," Arthur seethes, "even though you knew it was dangerous."

"Arthur, she did what any of us would have done. Hell, we've done much worse with far less noble incentives. Who was your mark, Ari?"

"Ando Salling, the software developer," she answers.

"That's the handsome young man, who discovered RedWare Technology," Zelda remembers, "He and his mates practically **revolutionized** cloud computing."

"Yes," Ariadne acknowledges, "he was hired by someone known only as, The Commissioner, to develop this new software called, Opus."

"Opus? Why, that sounds harmless," Zelda reasons, "What was wrong with Opus?" Zelda asks, curious.

"It was supposed to give the public access to more information than had ever previously been available. And I don't mean a simple Google search. If Opus had been released, the software would've enabled users to remotely connect to another person's webcam and phone lines without the person ever knowing it. Goodbye, Privacy!"

"But there are law against such invasion of privacy," Eames states.

"Apparently not," Ariadne begins, "The Commissioner was able to manipulate the description of the software so that it registered under _'social media'_and was perfectly legal." Ariadne looks down at her tea, "I don't know how, but The Commissioner found a loophole."

"I'm still missing something," the point man states, "Who hired you for the job?"

"Ando Salling Sr. He hired us saying he was afraid for his son. He didn't want him involved in The Commissioner's plans. So, he called Eames's guy, and Eames' guy hired me. Salling wanted us to give his son a moral compass, make him see what destruction the usage of his software would cause. Of course, the idea we planted was more appealing than that. We told his subconscious he could make more money developing software that protected people's privacy as opposed to violating it."

"And that worked?" Zelda asks, sipping her tea.

"Yeah, actually," says Ariadne, "The son refunded his paycheck and destroyed all copies of the software code."

"And The Commissioner wasn't mad?" Eames asks.

"Oh I'm sure he was, but who was he gonna be mad at? Salling was within his legal right to refuse to continue, as long as he paid back the money – which he did. Besides, it's much easier to kill a couple of criminals than it is to kill technology's golden child."

"I'm going to miss the good ol' days…" Zelda sighs mournfully, as she drops the butt of her cigarette into the ashtray sitting on the table. Eames, Arthur and Ariadne watch the older woman.

Zelda retrieves another cigarette from her pack, placing it between her lips and continues, "… y'know, when corporations were helpless against inception and extraction, when extractors only had to worry about being killed by other extractors…." Zelda lights the cigarette resting between her lips. She takes a drag then cradles the cigarette between her fingers. She exhales a long stream of smoke, "Now everything's all about power. There's so much fucking politics and intimidation, my God."

"Excuse me, Zelda?" Ariadne starts.

"Yes, dear?" Zelda looks at the young woman.

"Where's your bathroom?"

"Walk down this hallway," Zelda points, "It's the third door on your left."

"Thank you. Pardon me." Ariadne walks around the table and down the hallway. The bathroom door closes. Zelda looks from the hallway to the two men sitting in her living room.

"She seems like a fine young woman, capable too! I'm surprised one of you bastards hasn't shagged her already."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that, Zelda. Arthur here is not as blind as he puts on," Eames quips. He waits for the point man's reaction. Arthur, only half-listening, forces a chuckle.

The forger peers over at the point man whose features convey the kind of determined stoicism only Arthur could muster. Eames watches as the mote of an idea dangerously takes root behind the point man's swarthy eyes. This is both a daring and calculated occurrence. The point man is formulating a plan.

"Arthur, darling, what are you thinking?" Eames asks, cautiously curious.

"That Ariadne is right."

The point man casts a glance at the forger, "The Commissioner is hunting her down. And by the looks of it, he's not going to stop until she's dead."

"He's made up his mind," Eames says.

"And we have to change it," Arthur finishes.

Eames studies the point man, "What did you say?"

"I said we have to change it," Arthur repeats, "change his mind."

Zelda removes her cigarette from her lips and sits on the edge of her seat, eager to see where this conversation is headed.

Eames inhales sharply before speaking, "You don't mean you think we ought to perform inception on The Commissioner, do you?"

The point man nods, slowly.

In a whispered yell, the forger protests, "Are you bloody mad? That's suicide! There's no telling what kind of militarization The Commissioner's subconscious has undergone! We'd be in fucking limbo before we even set the timer! Not to mention we've just been hired for another extraction job! Arthur, we cannot perform this inception."

Ariadne reenters, "Who wants to perform inception?"

Arthur, Eames and Zelda start at the unexpected sound of Ariadne's voice. Eames leans back in his chair rubbing his face in frustration, "Arthur. Arthur want us to perform inception on the megalomaniac who's trying to kill you."

"Are you serious?"

"Ask him," Eames points.

"Arthur, you're not seriously suggesting we try and inception our way out of this, are you? What part of that sounds like a good idea? We don't even know The Commissioner's real name... we'll get ourselves killed!"

Arthur lifts his gaze to meet Ariadne's wide eyes, "We'll be killed if we do nothing."

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, there is an old software called Opus, but we're gonna pretend (for the sake of the story and my sanity) that there isn't. Rate! Review! Let me know how I can better work the scenes so the for your maximum enjoyment!


	4. The Terrace

**A/N:** Hey Everyone!

Sorry it's taken so long for me to post a new fic (it was the holidays, I was too busy eating). Not to mention, I was a little uninspired. But I'm back, ready to attack, with Chapter 4 of this lovely fic!

I wanna say, Hi, to my readers! To my lovely third reviewer! And to all of you awesome folks who have favorited me/this story - I see each of you and you make my heart warm! I'm sending electronic singing telegrams your way!

**FYI**: This chapter's laced with crack. Don't worry, it's just their pre-inception jitters. ALSO: one of the characters says the word 'fag,' absolutely **no** insult is meant by this. The character is English: Fags = **cigarettes**! Also, this might confuse a few people who are not familiar with Jamaican or English pudding, but the pudding mentioned in this story more resembles a fruitcake than the goopy sweetness sold by the Jell-O brand.

Enjoy!

-RaifandRosefan

* * *

Chapter 4: The Terrace

30 minutes later, Arthur has won over Ariadne and Eames using undeniable logic and a rarely seen emotional plea. _That's the most emotion I've ever seen from him, _Eames reflects, _he even started to yell. It was astonishing, really_.

Ariadne fiddles with the tear in her shirtsleeve where the bullet has torn through it. The stress of the day is beginning to wear on the architect.

Eames turns lazily in his chair, "Zelda, would it be alright if I lit a fag?"

Smiling, Zelda removes the cigarette from her lips, "How polite of you to ask, Eames. By all means! Have a go! You all may smoke, if you like," she casually offers the pack of cigarettes on the table to Arthur and Ariadne. Arthur lifts his hand politely in refusal, "No thank you."

Ariadne considers the offer. She looks to her bandaged arm and thinks again. "I'd love to, but I probably shouldn't."

Zelda looks at Ariadne's crimson sleeve and smiles sympathetically, "That's probably best."

Ariadne looks to her left, past Eames, through two large French doors to a beautiful terrace, overflowing with green plants and swathed in long vines. "Zelda, may I go outside?"

"Of course, dear," Zelda gets up from her seat and opens the door to the terrace for Ariadne.

"Thank you," the architects utters, as she steps onto the terrace. Zelda returns to the table and the two men sitting around it. The silver-haired woman deftly places the empty teacups onto a silver tray.

Arthur watches Zelda as she takes the tray into the kitchen. Eames' cigarette rests casually between his index and middle finger. The forger takes a puff of his black cigarette before speaking.

"If this inception is going to happen... we're going to need help. We'll have to call in favours."

Arthur looks from Eames to the dark silhouette of the woman standing on the terrace looking over the banister. Arthur considers Eames' statement then adds, "Cobb's gonna have to come out of retirement for this one. And it won't be easy convincing Yusuf -"

"Don't worry about Yusuf," Eames smiles mischievously, "I've got it sorted."

Arthur turns to face the forger, a warning expression on his face, "Eames, I'd prefer if you don't blackmail our chemist."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking that," Eames refutes cunningly, "He just... owes me, is all."

"Eames, whatever you're planning... it better not jeopardize the mission."

"Thanks for the advice, mum" Eames quips, "But I'm not a daft as you think."

In the kitchen, Zelda yells to her guests in the living room.

"If you need an extra hand, I wouldn't mind helping. I could join your team - temporarily of course. Perhaps I could call in a few favours from some old friends?"

Arthur smooths his shirt before yelling to the kitchen, "Zelda, we couldn't think of imposing on you anymore than we already have."

"Nonsense, I want to help! Besides, I've grown fond of her, your architect. She's a tough one! I wish there were more girls like her in the business when I started. God knows extraction could've used more estrogen in those days."

Cigarette-in-mouth, holding her silver tray, Zelda reappears. She has cut four large slices of pudding for herself and her guests. Zelda walks toward the table, she rests her cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, "I figured everyone could use a bit of cheering up," Zelda lowers her tray, "So I've sliced up some of my world famous pudding," she gives both men their plates, "- but please, do not get any on my seating, I just had them cleaned."

Eames happily bites into his pudding. Arthur receives his plate, satisfaction burning behind his eyes, "Zelda, we'd be honored to welcome you - and your world famous pudding - to our team."

"I concur," Eames adds before shoving yet another forkful into his mouth. Arthur takes out his phone and begins to dial a number...

Zelda looks at Ariadne who still stands on the terrace, looking out over the dark park and sleeping buildings in Zelda's quiet corner of Paris. Zelda picks up her plate and Ariadne's before walking out to the terrace.

* * *

Ariadne looks back at the French doors upon hearing them open. Zelda steps out, closing the door behind her.

"Hi," Ariadne breathes.

"Hello," Zelda muses as she walks over to the table set up with two chairs in the corner of the terrace. There, she sets down their plates of pudding and takes a seat. Ariadne walks over to the table, grabbing the other seat. She watches Zelda take a bite of the dark object on her plate, her eyes brighten as she recognizes is the yumminess before her.

"Pudding!" The architect exclaims, "Eames told me about your pudding-" Ariadne takes a large forkful of the pudding, the delicious pudding, "He told me it was good, but... holy fuck! This is good!"

Zelda laughs mirthfully at the architect's enthusiasm.

"Thank you, my dear! It's taken many years to perfect this pudding. It's a Frasier family recipe."

Mouth full of the delicious pudding, Ariadne offers up an idea, "Y'know? You should **sell** this pudding! You'd make millions with this recipe! I swear! Most of that money would probably come from me!"

"Well there's an idea..." The wise dreamer muses, "I could open up a shop here in Paris - a little English pudding place..."

"And you could call it just that!" Ariadne enthuses, "The Pudding Place... kinda has a ring to it, no?"

"Yes, I'd say it does," Zelda sets down her not-yet-finished plate of pudding. Seriousness has returned to the older woman's face. Ariadne stops eating, mid fork-full. The architect swallows what pudding remains in her mouth and looks up at the older woman before continuing to examine the contents of her own plate. "Is something wrong, Zelda? Did I say something? If I did, I apologize."

"Dear, you said nothing to upset me."

Ariadne exhales, relieved, "Okay, good. So, what's bothering you?" Ariadne waits for a response. It comes after a pause.

"Call it female intuition," Zelda starts, "but I have a feeling you're more disturbed by today's events than you let on."

Ariadne thinks before speaking. "Um, well... I guess I am a little upset... I mean, people **did** try to kill me twice today. And I got a bullet through my arm." Ariadne's smiles a mirthless and uncomfortable smile, "That's not something you just get over, y'know? Not to mention-I... killed someone." Ariadne pushes the rest of her pudding around her plate, the fork scraping against porcelain. "No matter how many times you do that in a dream, it never feels okay in real life. The guy doesn't just wake up, y'know?" Ariadne looks at Zelda. The woman's head rests on one of her hands as she looks pensively at the architect.

"I do know. I know well..." Zelda exhales and walks over to the banister, "But there's more you're not telling me..."

"I don't know what you mean," Ariadne walks over to the old dreamer.

"There's a pain in you, I see it." Ariadne shifts her stance slightly, "I mean, you hide it bloody well, and you certainly have the boys fooled...," Zelda leans toward Ariadne, "But, you don't fool me. Not even for a second. You messed up. You're in over your head, and it's all your fault. It always is, isn't it?"

"Look," Ariadne snaps, "I am grateful for your help, Zelda, but don't think that allows you to speak to me however you'd like. I know I messed up. I made a mistake. And if I recall correctly, you've made a few mistakes yourself. So, don't you dare stand there and judge me!" Ariadne walks across the terrace, stopping to pick up her plate, "Thank you for the pudding," Ariadne enters the apartment.

The grey-haired woman looks to the ominous moon shining over the city. She exhales sadly, "Well done, Zelda. Well done."

* * *

Ariadne enters the apartment and crosses to the kitchen.

"Enjoyed the fresh air, mate?" Eames asks expectantly, a content look on his face.

"It wasn't bad," Ariadne answers from the kitchen, before returning to the seat she had vacated.

"Eames you were right," the architect admits as she settles into her seat.

"Aren't I always? What about?"

"Zelda's pudding is fucking ridiculous!" Ariadne gushes to the forger.

"See, now - I told you, didn't I?" Eames smiles a teasingly cheeky smile.

Ariadne smiles playfully at the forger.

Zelda enters the living room, plate and teacup in hand. The two women exchange an odd glance as Zelda crosses to the kitchen. Eames and Arthur watch the women in this brief and silent exchange.

"Something wrong, Ari?" Arthur ventures.

"No, not at all," the architect answers naturally. "So, back to inception. Guys, we're gonna need Cobb and Yusuf for this."

"I just called to confirm, you and I are headed stateside tomorrow. We're paying Cobb a visit."

"I thought you were on the 'No Fly' list..."

"Low friends in high places, Ari," Eames shoots her a cryptic look. Ariadne nods in remembered understanding.

"What time do we leave?" Ariadne turns to the point man.

"Plane departs at 9am. We'll leave here around 6 am." Ariadne looks at her watch. It's 2:03 in the morning. _Crap. _

Ariadne thinks for a moment, "What about Yusuf? How are we gonna get him on board? There's no payout for this mission."

"I'm handling it."

"Eames, I don't think you should blackmail our chemist."

"Ariadne, the man owes me."

"Fine, Eames. Just, don't do anything stupid."

Eames scoffs humorously, "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Well then, I'm gonna get some sleep," Ariadne says standing, "See you in a few hours."

Ariadne walks around the coffee table and down a hallway, entering the guestroom of the crumbling apartment where Zelda has set up a bed and with a blanket for her.

Zelda enters the living room. Arthur and Eames watch the woman take a seat in her chair.

"What was that look between you and Ari, a moment ago?" Eames asks.

Zelda looks at her guests, "Oh, It seems I overstepped my boundaries a bit, went too far. I'm certain I embarrassed myself. It doesn't matter anyway. She cussed me out, as she should, and I think we're on our way to being friends, now."

"I remember our first argument," Eames reflects, "You had insulted my mother. You called her a whore, if I remember correctly."

"Loose woman, Eames. I said she was a loose woman."

"I remember your use of the word 'whore,'" Eames insists.

_Whore? _Arthur sits up in his seat. "You called Eames' mother a whore?"

"A loose woman, yes."

"Why?" Arthur smiles.

"Because she was! If only you'd known her as a teen. I had to beg your mother not to go home with random strangers she'd met at parties nearly every night of every weekend! Your mother knew no bounds, Eames."

"Your account of her sounds nothing like the woman who raised me."

"Of course not! She'd settled down when she met your father. The relationship changed her for the better, I think. Now, let's not wallow in the past. You two need to get some rest. I expect you to call me when you lot are back in Paris. Hmm?"

"Of course, Zeze," Eames drones sleepily.

Zelda walks over to her linen closet where she pulls out two sheets and pillows. She tosses one of each to Eames and Arthur. "Goodnight gentlemen," Zelda enters her room, closing the door behind her. Within seconds, the point man and the forger are asleep in the living room. Arthur has sprawled out on the couch. Eames sleeps in his comfortable chair with his feet on the coffee table.

The apartment is silent. Paris is silent.

* * *

**A/N:** I know, I know, I know! You want action! And I want to give you action sequences like no other! Blame the characters, they hijacked the story (HEY *Kanye shrug*). There's good news: we're about to reunite the team (YAY!). I tried to make this chapter interesting and humorous (maybe cracky). Hope it worked! More to come!


	5. Getting There Part 1

**A/N: **Hello there! Here's another chappie for you all! Thanks to LoquaciousLilLovely, for my fourth review (you made me smile!) I hope this chapter is as wonderful as everyone is expecting!

Disclaimer: I OWN Inception. I also own a flying bison and am married to Captain Crunch!

- RaifandRosefan

* * *

Chapter 5: Getting There Pt. 1

It is 5:30 am. Paris is moving, its citizens and stowaways rising from their sleep, preparing to face a new day. Ariadne stands in front of a full-length mirror. She has borrowed a shirt from Zelda's closet. Ariadne wears the loose-fitting long-sleeved white button down shirt tucked partially into the same black skinny jeans from the day before. Her hair is tied up in a simple and effortless bun, wisps of loose hair falling haphazardly to frame her face. Her blood splattered converse look like works from Jackson Pollock. Ariadne would be surprised if anyone actually figured out those were her own blood stains. A bright turquoise silk scarf sits around her neck. She'd put the scarf in her bag with the intention of wearing it to class, but forgot about it when she realized she was late. Now, the pristine scarf rests around her neck.

Arthur and Eames are in the bathroom. Arthur, his hair slicked back and wet from a shower, dressed in his vest, trousers and shirt from the day before, stands over the sink washing his face. Eames is in the shower, humming and cleaning himself. They are separated by an opaque navy blue shower curtain decorated with light pink seashells.

"We've got a big day ahead of us, mate." Eames states, from beneath the shower's spray. Arthur is brushing his teeth using his finger and some toothpaste.

"Let's hope nothing goes wrong." Arthur spits and rinses his mouth, "I really should keep a toothbrush here."

"Oi, you didn't know?" Eames washes his back, "Zelda keeps a fifty-pack of spare toothbrushes under the sink."

Arthur opens the cupboard beneath the sink and sees a fifty-pack of basic toothbrushes staring back at him, laughing. Arthur curses beneath his breath, pulling out a toothbrush and preparing to start the process all over again.

Zelda stands in the kitchen over a frying pan, preparing the days delicious breakfast - the smell of which wafts appetizingly through the apartment. Ariadne enters the kitchen. As Zelda turns to her fridge to retrieve the orange juice, Ariadne quickly and happily helps herself to an English sausage. A personal game of hot potato ensues as Ariadne discovers the meaning behind the phrase, "out of the frying pan." Ariadne rests the sausage on a plate. Using a knife and fork, she removes the casing. Zelda turns around at the sound of a fork scraping against porcelain. She takes in the appearance of the young woman before her, noticing a familiar shirt resting on the architect's shoulders.

"Good morning, Zelda," Ariadne inhales deeply, "breakfast smells amazing."

Arthur steps out of the bathroom, smelling minty fresh. He greets the women and takes a seat at the table in the breakfast nook. Ariadne takes her sausage with her to the table. From a sitting position, Arthur pulls out a chair for the architect. As Ariadne sits, Zelda turns to survey her guests.

"Where's that daft little forger of yours?"

"Still in the shower," Arthur offers as he reaches for Ariadne's plate. Ariadne wards him off with a jab from her fork.

"Get your own, Arthur," the architect insists as she shoves a forkful of sausage into her mouth.

Relenting, Arthur gets up from his seat, walking toward the sizzling stove. Rummaging through the cupboards, Arthur finds a plate and holds it out to the sweet woman next to him. Zelda shares breakfast for the growling stomach before her, and Arthur - whose eyes once again burn with satisfaction - trots to the table, devouring his meal. Ariadne, jealously eyes the point man's full plate. She heads over to the stove to get more food for herself.

Once at the stove, Ariadne looks at Zelda who smiles at the architect with an odd glint of approval in her expression. Ariadne peers down at her clothes.

"I hope you don't mind, I took this shirt from your closet. I didn't think it'd be wise to run around the airport in a blood stained shirt."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. It looks good on you, actually," Zelda smiles. It seems last night's quarrel is forgotten. Ariadne returns the smile before eagerly helping herself to more food.

Eames emerges from the bathroom dripping wet, wearing only a towel. Ariadne wears an expression of playful confusion, while Arthur is too preoccupied with his food to take a second look. Zelda observes the forger's smugness, completely unimpressed by his dripping masculine physique. _Was this boy not born with an ounce of shame?_

"Must you parade around my apartment **naked**?"

"Oh, c'mon, Zeze," the forger smiles, "I'm not naked. I'm wearing a towel," Eames begins to loosen his towel, "Unless you want me to take it off-"

"Oi!" Zelda interrupts, "Bloody f-the towel stays on! You hear me? If your mother were to see you-!"

"Alright, alright, I'll stop..." Eames tightens his towel innocently, "don't have to bring mum into it." Eames flashes his schoolboy grin, "c'mere, Zeze. I'm sorry..."

Eames walks toward Zelda, ready to hug her, with his wet self. Zelda in playful defiance smacks Eames with the serving spoon, "Oh shut up and eat your breakfast. It's getting cold."

Eames chuckles with satisfaction as he grabs a plate from the cupboard and serves breakfast for Zelda and then for himself. Everyone eats at the table in the breakfast nook.

Not at all uncomfortable with the nakedness before her, Ariadne starts, "Eames, you don't think you'd be more comfortable eating breakfast with clothes on?"

"What do you mean? I am comfortable," Eames answers, unashamed.

Zelda rolls her eyes, "You never did like clothes..." Zelda chews her food. Arthur and Ariadne look at her in expectation. "When he was a lad, his mother used to have to chase him all over the house to get him to put his kit on." Ariadne and Arthur smile at the forger who appears only slightly embarrassed. "I remember this one time-" Eames squirms,

"Zeze, not the Harrods story-"

"His mother and I were shopping in Harrods - we were looking for dresses to wear to my sister's wedding. We'd only turned away for a second! When we turned around, **this** young man was running around the store, naked, beating his chest and telling everyone that he was "Mowgli," from The Jungle Book!"

Ariande and Arthur glance at each other, then at the forger. Ariadne and Arthur fall apart with laughter. Ariadne rolls off her chair and onto the floor. Arthur looks Eames in the eye, tearing and barely able to control the laughter coming out of his body.

"The Jungle Book! So-" Arthur pauses, "So-that's where it came from?" Arthur descends into more laughter.

"Laugh all you want," Eames starts, "The Jungle Book is a classic."

Ariadne takes a seat on her chair, tears streaming from her eyes, "Aww, Mowgli... that's so **cute**!" Ariadne descends into yet another fit of laughter.

"Yeah, yeah," Eames eats his food, pretending to be upset. He looks at Zelda, who smiles in playful vindication. "You had to tell them the Mowgli story, didn't you?"

"It went with your current situation," Zelda offers, guiltless, as she takes another bite of her breakfast.

Ariadne and Arthur manage to pull themselves together. Arthur looks at his watch. Ariadne sobers up when she sees the point man turn his attentions to the task at hand.

"How much time do we have?" Ariadne asks.

"Fifteen minutes," Arthur answers, "We have to go now." Arthur gets up from the table, Ariadne follows. The point man yells back to Eames,

"We're taking your car, Eames. Mine has too many explosives in it."

Ariadne grabs the hooded leather bomber jacket she'd left behind the first time she'd been to the backup point. Eames helps the architect slide the jacket gingerly over her wounded shoulder. Ariadne slings her messenger bag, containing her and Arthur's fake identification, carefully across her body.

"God speed," Eames utters, as Arthur opens the door.

"Good luck," Zelda adds.

"Thank you," Ariadne returns. Arthur is already out of the apartment and walking down several flights of stairs.

Ariadne closes the door behind her. Eames turns to Zelda who looks at him, smiling. Eames points to the woman in mock-seriousness.

"Remind me never to let you tell the Harrods story, ever again." Zelda laughs off Eames' comment, and they walk toward the kitchen, where the sink is piled high with pots and plates waiting to be cleaned.

"Do you always go naked in front of your colleagues, Mowgli? Or is it just the female ones?"

Eames stands over the rubbish bin, scraping the remains of his breakfast into it. He moves to the sink where Zelda has started to wash dishes.

"Zelda..." Eames grabs a rag and dries a saucer.

"Don't Zelda me. You're the one standing naked in my kitchen for God know what reason."

"I'm just comfortable, is all." Eames puts the saucer in a cupboard.

Zelda hands Eames another soaking plate.

"So, when are you leaving?" Zelda looks over at the forger who focuses on the plate he is drying.

"Little less than an hour."

"You should get dressed then," Zelda enthuses.

"I should," Eames turns to put the plate in the cupboard. "Tell me something..." the forger dries his hands with the rag.

"What?"

"What was my mother thinking when she named me?"

"I don't know. But she liked The Jungle Book. She said she wanted a son like Mowgli, a wild boy with lots of imagination," Zelda ruffles Eames' hair, "and that's exactly what she got! Now go put some clothes on!" Eames slithers away as Zelda reaches to smack him playfully on the bum with a wooden spoon.

The spoon makes contact.

* * *

The navy blue cabriolet is parked in the airport parking lot. Ariadne and Arthur stand in front of a self check-in kiosk. Using a credit card registered under a false name, Arthur prints their tickets. The dreamers make their way through the airport, toward the security checkpoint.

"Are you sure this is gonna work?" Ariadne asks, unsure of herself.

"Relax, Ari" Arthur soothes. He places his hand on the small of her back, guiding her gently toward the security checkpoint.

The line at the checkpoint isn't very long. Ariadne pulls out their IDs which are to be presented to the agent before moving to the scanners. Two passengers stand between the dreamers and a night in the slammer. Ariadne tries not to consider the possibilities. _Please let this work. Please, please, please._ Ariadne does her best to appear calm. She looks over at the point man, who is relaxed and at ease behind his stoic exterior_._ _He's done this __**way**__ too many times,_ Ariadne thinks jealously.

It is Arthur and Ariadne's turn to present their tickets and identification. Arthur retrieves the IDs from Ariadne who smiles casually at the agent examining their papers. The agent takes a few moments to compare names and faces. The agent returns Ariadne's boarding pass and Identification. She is ushered toward the security scanners where passengers feverishly remove items of clothing and shoes, sorting them into bins prior to walking through the scanner. Ariadne turns to see Arthur, still standing at the front of the line next to the agent. He is saying something to the agent that Ariadne cannot decipher.

It occurs to Ariadne that she should begin removing her coat and shoes to walk through the scanner. She is dismayed by the realization that she might have to get on the plane without Arthur. Ariadne unzips her coat. _Fuck. God please let Arthur get through!_

Ariadne painstakingly slides her jacket off her shoulders. A searing jolt of pain rips its way through her chest. _Fuck! Shit!_ For a moment, Ariadne can't breathe. Ariadne bites her lip, trying not to scream. The architect breathes sharply and deeply, going more carefully as she removes her shoes.

The line behind Ariadne grows impatient. She is moving too slow for their comfort. Ariadne glares angrily at one man who pushes the entire line forward causing her to slip and hurt her already throbbing arm. _Fuck off!_ Ariadne gives her aggressor the finger and looks over to the podium where Arthur stands, next to the agent.

The agent returns Arthur's identification and boarding pass. Arthur is allowed to move on to the security scanner. Cool relief washes over the architect. Ariadne quickly and happily removes her other shoe and steps through the scanner. Ariadne is clear. Without stopping to put her shoes on, Ariadne grabs her items from the bins and walks over to a small bench on the opposite wall, above which are backlit posters advertising vacation packages in French. Arthur makes it through the scanner and walks over to the architect.

Every article of clothing is in its proper place on the point man, as he nears the bench. Ariadne has replaced her jacket, bag and one shoe. The architect works intently to replace the remaining shoe without causing any pain. _She's cute when tries hard. She's like the little engine that could_, Arthur thinks to himself_. _

After a moment, the shoe is on Ariadne's foot. Arthur helps the architect to her feet. The point man's typically hardened expression softens when they share a glance. Ariadne's stomach flutters. She suppresses the smile creeping onto her lips with a sharp cough. _Fuck, he's hot. _

Arthur and Ariadne make their way toward their gate.

* * *

Eames arrives at Charles de Gaulle, in a taxi. He is fully dressed in a salmon colored oxford shirt with large lapels. He wears his grey trousers with matching suit jacket. The forger walks casually into the airport, his belt and watch in hand. Eames picks up his tickets at the self check-in kiosk.

* * *

Ariadne and Arthur sit at their gate, waiting for their plane to begin boarding. Ariadne sits up in her seat,

"Hey Arthur," the point man looks from the window, over to Ariadne, and back.

"Yes, Ari?" He asks calmly.

"Have you ever read The Jungle Book?" Ariadne fixes Arthur with a childlike curious stare. The randomness of Ariadne's question surprises the point man.

"Um, no. I haven't, actually. Why?" Arthur peers over at the architect whose brow furrows with the effort of thought.

"Nothing. It's just-your reaction this morning... to Eames calling himself Mowgli... I thought you might have never read The Jungle Book, for some odd reason."

"No, I've never read it, but I've heard of it. I didn't know one of the characters was named Mowgli."

"You're kidding me, right?" Arthur does not respond, "We're going to a book store when we land in New York," Ariadne settles back into her seat, "You're gonna read The Jungle Book."

Ariadne sees the familiar figure of a man in a gray suit and pink shirt gliding past them. The man strode down the corridor, merging with the milieu.

_Good luck, Eames._

"US Airways Flight 10 departing from Paris to New York City will now begin boarding."

Ariadne and Arthur listen for their seats to be called.

* * *

Eames stands in line at the gate for his flight. The architect and point man's seats are called over the loud speaker. Eames smiles inwardly. _Good luck, guys_.

His boarding pass is scanned.

Eames exhales broadly as he steps onto the jet bridge. _Another day, another continent._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **I hope this chapter wasn't OOC/AU/Cracky! Anyways,

What did we learn? 1. Eames LOVES being naked (You're welcome!). 2. Eames' real name is Mowgli (I like him having a playful name). 3. Arthur has never read The Jungle Book (wtf?).

This chappie kinda delves into the characters' personal lives - or rather - Eames' personal life. I think this is good. Action/Adventure is good, but Action/Adventure&HEART... is even better, no? Let me know if this chapter was too sappy. Do I need to tone it down? Should I keep delving into their personal lives?

-R&Rf


	6. Getting There Part 2

**A/N: **Hey Readers!

I made this chappie extra long so there's more to enjoy. (Making up for the lag in updates... I'm trying to buy your affections ;-) )

Platypus Core, the slight A/A is for you!

To Royleen: Hey! (Just thought I should shout you out directly 'cause I didn't before)

**FYI**: this chapter jumps between time zones! Oh and to see images of the bookstore mentioned in this story, check the links on my profile!

**Last but not least**: Please, please, please tell me how I can make this story better! (I love Kunstruktiv Crittersizm - feedback is my aphrodisiac!)

**Disclaimer**: I loaned Inception to Christopher Nolan, when I was 9... Indefinitely...

just kidding!

-RaifandRosefan

* * *

Chapter 6: Getting There Part 2

It's another grey afternoon in New York City. The city streets are slick and slippery in the ice cold autumn rain. Ariadne and Arthur stand outside the arrivals gate at JFK International Airport. Arthur hails a cab which makes its way over to the drenched twosome. Arthur opens the door for Ariadne who slides across the rear seat, leaving a trail of rainwater behind her. Arthur follows suit. The door shuts.

The architect shudders as the warmth of the cab envelops her body. She leans forward to speak to the cab driver through the Plexiglas divider,

"One twenty-six Crosby Street Soho, please. Housingworks bookstore."

The cab pulls away from the curb, melding with traffic headed into Manhattan. Ariadne settles back in her seat. Heavy rain beats against the vehicle, Arthur glances at the architect,

"Y'know, we should book rooms somewhere and try to get some sleep. You barely slept on the plane and we've got another flight to Los Angeles in a few hours."

"Arthur, I'm fine. Besides, I said I would get you that book. I wasn't kidding."

Exhausted, Arthur relents. Ariadne watches the buildings and street signs fly by as the taxi weaves into and out of traffic. Wipers screech lazily across the windshield. The city's buildings and people fade into one another as the architect fights her heavy eyelids to stay awake. Arthur, ever-alert, watches the scenery pass by them with fierce determination, as if committing every detail to memory for their journey back to the airport.

The ride to the bookstore passes in comfortable silence. In Forty minutes, they arrive at the downtown bookstore. Ariadne reaches for her wallet. Arthur stops her, placing his hand lightly on her forearm, and reaches into his own pocket to pay the fare. Ariadne smiles appreciatively at the point man, then scoots herself out of the cab.

Arthur exits the cab, closing the door. The yellow Ford screeches off in search of new passengers. Ariadne and Arthur step over to the side walk. Arthur holds the door for Ariadne. Shoes and hair soaked, the dreamers trudge into the invitingly warm golden hued bookstore. The warm wooden flooring and alluring bookshelves greet them as the door closes behind them and the sound of the busy store fills their ears. Ariadne asks a passing store volunteer where she might find a copy of The Jungle Book.

"Follow me," the curly haired woman, with a bob, bounces.

Ariadne turns to Arthur, "Hey, I can handle this. Why don't you grab us a couple of seats somewhere? We could read for a bit..." Ariadne's eyes glow, warm with expectation, waiting for the point man's response. An invisible smile reaches Arthur's heart as he evaluates Ariadne's request.

"Sure," Arthur heads in the direction of the bookshop's café.

Ariadne follows the woman, winding her way through a maze of cozy shelves, until they reach the location of the book. The woman plucks the used book from its shelf and hands it to Ariadne.

"Is this what you're looking for?" the woman asks, eagerly.

"Yes!" Ariadne answers happily.

"I can help you over at the register," the woman offers with a smile.

"Oh, yes, thank you."

Book in hand, Ariadne makes her way toward the café where Arthur sits handsomely at a table for two. Atop the table sit two cups of coffee, a muffin, and cream and sugar. An unoccupied chair sits idly next to the point man. Arthur gets up from his seat as he sees Ariadne nearing the table.

The architect smiles brightly as she nears the table, "You got coffee?"

Ariadne snatches her cup of coffee up off the table. _This is perfect_.

"I didn't know whether you wanted cream or sugar. So, I got you both."

_Coffee, coffee, coffee!_ Ariadne bounces slightly in her seat. She smiles at the point man, "Coffee is just what I needed. Thank you, Arthur." Ariadne removes the lid of her coffee, "Oh, and let's not forget why we came here in the first place..." she pulls the book out of a paper bag, "Now you'll have no excuse for not knowing who Mowgli is."

Arthur runs his hand over the cover of the book. "Thank you, Ari," he says, a flicker of sincerity dancing behind his eyes.

Ariadne shrugs simply, "No problem." She dumps the cream and sugar into her coffee.

Realizing that she's used all of the sugar and cream, the architect smiles mock-sheepishly at the forger, "I hope you like your coffee black..."

"I do, actually," Arthur informs forgivingly, "And I bought the muffin for you."

"Thanks. Do you want any?" Ariadne offers the muffin.

"No, I'm good." Arthur sips his black coffee, "speaking of muffins and coffee, if you're into the whole coffeehouse thing, I know this little coffee and tea place in the west village that you might like."

"Yeah? What's it called?" Ariadne takes a pinch of her muffin and shoves it neatly into her mouth.

"Grounded. You'd like it. It kinda feels like you're in your living room drinking coffee with people from the neighborhood. It's nice."

"Wow," Ariadne utters from behind her coffee cup.

"What?" the point man asks, seriously curious.

"I never pegged you for a coffee house kinda guy," the architect answers simply.

Ariadne becomes warm under Arthur's earnest gaze.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Ari," Arthur runs his hand over the book's cover. Arthur examines the title page.

Sensing the change in mood, Ariadne looks at her watch and changes the subject, "Read to me, Arthur."

* * *

Just after midnight, a tired Eames disembarks from a plane.

Welcome to Mombasa.

The balmy hot air surrounds the forger as he crosses the tarmac toward the airport entrance. Eames makes his way to the front of the airport, where he hails a gypsy cab. Eames steps into the old grey vehicle. After giving the driver his desired destination the cab drives off.

Eames is on his way to visit his old friend, Yusuf.

* * *

Back in New York, Ariadne is asleep face down on the coffee table, one arm under her head the other - her wounded arm - folded neatly in her lap, her hair covering not only her face but also much of the table. Arthur laughs inwardly, taking in the architect's sleeping form. He continues to read his book.

* * *

Eames' cab pulls up in front of Yusuf's home. Eames exits the gypsy cab, which speeds off - to find more passengers, no doubt. Yusuf's home sits wedged between a dozen or so other buildings, each of them painted various colors, many of them old and beautifully decaying. The chemist lives in an apartment above his chemical shop on this moderately busy street in Mombasa. The forger scans the city block to see that no one is watching him. Ariadne's words from the previous morning replay in the forger's mind,

_Eames, I don't think you should blackmail our chemist._

"I don't intend to, Ariadne," the forger answers.

Satisfied that he is not being watched or followed, the handsomely jetlagged forger knocks on Yusuf's door.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _Silence.

The forger tries again, harder. _C'mon, Yusuf. Let's not have me out here all night._

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

There is movement within the apartment. A door slams and heavy footsteps creak their way down the stairs. Eames can hear the chemist muttering curses under his breath. Yusuf, mid-tirade, opens the door.

"Christ! It's 1 in the morning! Don't you people ha-" Yusuf stops, surprised to see Eames, "Eames? What the f- I thought you were in Paris."

"Sorry I didn't call first, but we need to talk."

"Can't it wait 'til morning? I was a little busy..." The forger perks up.

"Oh! Yusuf's got himself a little late night love making I see-"

"I meant I was sleeping you idiot! What do you want, Eames? It's late."

"I need to talk to you."

From upstairs, the sweet raspy voice of a woman awakened from her slumber calls down to Yusuf.

"Yusuf, honey, who is it?"

The chemist yells back to his apartment, "It's nothing, sweetheart. Someone, wants to buy some aspirin. His son's got a fever."

"Oh, okay. Hope he feels better," says the sweet voice from upstairs.

Yusuf turns back to the forger in his doorway, "Now what is it?"

Eames hesitates, "Can we go somewhere more private first?"

Yusuf yells back to his wife in the apartment, "Honey, I'm going to the shop for a bit. I'll be right back."

"Okay."

Yusuf grabs the key to his shop off of a table in the small hallway. He puts on a pair of shoes and steps out of the shop. Eames backs up the give the man room as he locks the door to his apartment. Eames follows Yusuf, who is dressed in his night clothes and a ragged robe. They walk over to Yusuf's shop. The chemist unlocks the door. The forger steps into the shop, followed by the chemist. Yusuf locks the door behind him.

The shop is completely dark. The blinds on all the windows have all been shut. Yusuf lights a small oil lamp resting on his counter. The lamp fills the room with a dim amber glow. Yusuf looks at the forger.

Eames, fresh off an eleven hour flight, is wearing a much wrinkled suit. His eyes are bloodshot. Yet, somehow, the forger does not appear tired. Instead, a determined expression has landed itself on Eames' features. Yusuf, wanting to move things along, starts,

"Alright, Eames, what is it? Why are you knocking on my door at," He looks at a clock resting on a shelf, "one fifteen in the morning?"

"It's Ariadne," Eames replies, "She's in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"She's being hunted by The Council."

"THEE council?"

"Yes. And if we don't get the person who ordered the hit on her to change his mind, it's very possible Ariadne will be dead before the end of the month."

"Eames, what does any of this have to do with me?"

Eames leans toward the chemist who leans on the glass counter. "The only way to truly change a person's mind, is to perform inception on them. We need your skills to design a sedative strong enough... for inception."

Yusuf digests the forger's words, "So... you want me to risk getting myself killed, because your pet architect made some rookie mistakes and got herself into trouble?"

_Blimey_, Eames thinks, _this is not the reaction I was hoping for._ "No, Yusuf, I am asking you to help us keep our colleague, Ariadne, from ending up in a box." The forger's tone is serious and pleading, but the chemist is hearing none of it.

"No-."

"Oh, c'mon, Yusuf-."

"No. We barely survived inception the last time, Eames. I'm not risking limbo again - for anyone! And in case you have forgotten, I am married now. I can't just **go **and risk my wife getting killed because of some girl she doesn't even know."

A baffled expression sits on Eames' face, "You wouldn't even have a wife if it weren't for Ariadne."

Yusuf ignores the forger, "Whatever, Eames."

Eames tries again to sway the chemist, "Yusuf, Ariadne won't survive much longer at the rate these men are coming after her. Even with Arthur and me helping, it's only a matter of time before they get to her." Eames searches the chemist's eyes for any trace of sympathy. No such luck. "Yusuf, she was in the hospital this morning with a bullet through her arm! Please."

"What's the payout?" Yusuf asks. Eames looks confused. "What do I get in return for my work?"

"There's no payout for this mission, Yusuf."

"Right. So, I'm supposed to risk my life for a girl I hardly know, who - for some reason - you seem to care so much about, and there's no payout."

"There shouldn't have to be a payout, Yusuf." The forger ventures, "Ariadne is our friend and-"

"Correction!" Yusuf begins, "She's your friend. I hardly know her!"

"Well then do this for me! Do it because I am your friend and I am asking you, just this once, for a favor."

Yusuf will not give in. "Friend or not, if there is no payout, I am not participating."

Eames cannot take it anymore, "Dammit-Yusuf, please-!"

"Eames! I have a wife now. Don't you understand?" Yusuf pleads with the forger, "I have a wife who expects me to go to work, everyday, and come home safely, everyday! I can't guarantee that if I'm out performing inception on homicidal mob bosses for no money!"

Eames pauses. _How the fuck do I reason with him?_ "You're assuming the inception will fail."

"Yes, because that's a possibility you seem to have forgotten, Eames!"

"Our inception didn't fail. Ariadne's inception did fail-"

"And look how lovely that's turned out for her!"

The forger swallows hard. Yusuf stands up straight. _Fuck. This was not supposed to happen. Fuck it, I'm sorry Ariadne..._

"It's one thirty in the morning, Eames. My wife is waiting for me. If this is all you have to say, I'm-"

"The payout... will be our silence."

Yusuf pauses. He looks the forger in the eye, uncertain. A shade of darkness falls over Yusuf's expression as he realizes the meaning behind Eames' words.

"So," Yusuf begins - defeated, "you wish to bring that up again."

A saddened Eames answers, "You left me no choice."

"Oh, no, I see. I won't do what you want. So, you threaten to blackmail me."

"No," Eames answers sternly, "I would never blackmail you. I am asking you, as a friend, to treat Ariadne with the same support she showed you."

"Call it what you will, Eames."

_Jesus Christ, this man is insufferable! _"Look! Ariadne saved your marriage that night! Had she not **distracted** your wife while Arthur and I practically dragged you out of that woman's apartment, you wouldn't even **have** a wife right now!"

"I was drugged! I don't even remember going home with that woman!"

"Do you honestly think your wife would care? It's not like you haven't already given her reason to think the worst of you!"

Yusuf is silent for a moment,

"So, what now? I help you on this mission, or you'll tell my wife about that night?"

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"Then, what are you saying?" Yusuf snaps.

Guilt rises in the forger's throat. He realizes he may never again be able to call the man before him 'friend.'

"I'm sorry Yusuf."

"Me too," the chemist replies.

Another moment of silence passes between them. Both dreamers determining what to do next. It is Eames who moves first. Eames crosses the shop, walking toward the door, "Never mind. I'll find another chemist-"

"Who is our mark?" Yusuf asks. Eames stops just short of opening the door. He does not turn around.

"He's known only as The Commissioner. No one knows his real name."

"What does he want with Ariadne? You said she performed inception... again."

Eames turns around carefully, avoiding eye contact. "She performed inception on a guy hired by The Commissioner to develop some all-knowing software. It would eliminate all personal privacy. There would be no more secrets," Eames looks Yusuf in the eye, "for anyone."

"And now The Commissioner's angry and wants Ariadne dead."

"That's why we have to perform the inception, to change The Commissioner's mind."

The chemist takes a moment to think over the forger's words. Yusuf looks at the forger, a reluctantly forgiving smile playing in his eyes. "I'll do it. Not because you tried to blackmail me, but because I owe Ariadne."

Eames smiles a crooked relieved smile. He might not have lost his friend, after all. Besides, what good are criminal friends if you can't almost blackmail them once in a while? "That's all I ever wanted," Eames answers. He reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He pulls out a plane ticket, presenting it to Yusuf. "Your flight is in two days. We'll be meeting Arthur, Ari, and Cobb at the backup point."

Yusuf frowns, "Cobb's coming? I thought he retired."

"We're hoping he'll come out of retirement for this."

"That's a tall order of wishful thinking, my friend," Yusuf informs.

"Yeah well, he sort of owes Ariadne also."

Yusuf shakes his head feigning disappointment, "That girl. She just piles up the IOU's, doesn't she?"

"It helps that her first job was inception-"

"You like her," Yusuf blabs.

"I beg your pardon?" the forger asks coolly.

"You like her, and you know Arthur likes her too! You're such a hypocrite, Eames."

"Wha-Yusuf, where's this coming from?"

"Why else would you be so willing to nearly destroy our friendship? You've never given two rats arses what happens to your other colleagues-"

"Yusuf, I do believe you've gone mad."

Giddy with realization, "And now you're coolly denying it - classic Eames-behavior."

The forger has heard enough, "Alright Yusuf. I'm going to let you sleep. I think your little head needs rest."

"Just admit it," Yusuf goads.

"There's nothing to admit."

"Fine. Keep living in denial."

"I will. Now, I must be leaving, and you'd best return to your wife." Eames turns to the door, opening it. "See you soon."

"Likewise," Yusuf slips.

With that, Eames steps out of the shop and fades into the streets of Mombasa. It's time for him to find that little place he visits whenever he needs to hideout in Mombasa for a few days.

* * *

Back in New York, it's 8:30 pm. Ariadne and Arthur are on the move again. Another taxi transports them to LaGuardia airport, where Ariadne and Arthur board their flight headed to LAX. Upon landing, they will have to convince their friend to leave his family and join them on another life-threatening mission.

"I hope Cobb's up for this," Ariadne sighs.

"He will be," The point man reassures. _I hope_.

Ariadne and Arthur settle into their first class seats. The architect surveys the other passengers. Ariadne nudges Arthur in the ribs. The point man looks over to see what has caught Ariadne's attention.

Directly across the aisle from them, with her curly golden brown hair falling about her shoulders, sits Drew Barrymore. She looks at the two of them and smiles briefly, bobbing her head to the music playing in her iPod. _Good_, Arthur thinks,_ Ari and I will no doubt be forgotten by the masses with such star-studded company._ And he is right. The passengers walking onto the plane and do a double take when they spot the star with her eyes closed, head bobbing to the music coming from her iPod. No one bothers to look at the exhausted couple sitting directly across the aisle from her. Not a single person.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope this makes up for the lack of posts.

What did we learn: 1. It's best to carry an umbrella when it rains 2. Housingworks bookstore is an awesome place to visit when you're in SoHo (Legit. You MUST go there at least once in life) 3. Arthur likes coffeehouses (Grounded is great - go there too!) 4. Yusuf has dirty little secrets (Who'da thunk...?) 5. Eames might have feelings for Ari... (Bwahahahaha... wait a minute...*thinks for a moment*)

All in all, 5 lessons. Not bad. And who doesn't LOVE a random celebrity encounter? Hey, they're people too. Everyone gets a little star struck sometimes, right?

RAIT! ReVUE!

- R&Rf


	7. GT Pt 3: My Presence is a Present

**A/N:** Aloha!

This chapter took so long to write, because life is like a ring of fire (or a was it a box of chocolates...? hmmm...)

**In This Chapter**: Action! fluff (A/A). **Eames drama,** Duh, Duh, DUH! & Hopefully a smidgen'-a-midgen' of humor :P

**FYI**: The story with Arthur and Ariadne starts in the present, backs up to the past, then works its way back to the present. The story with Eames occurs (an hour ) in the past. (I can't wait 'til this story occurs uses only one timezone again...)

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: If you think I own INCEPTION, you've probably been Incepted. (I'm not that badass... okay, maybe a _little _badass... but I don't like to brag :p)

- RaifandRosefan

* * *

Chapter 7: 

Getting There Pt 3: My Presence is a Present 

**The Present**

Los Angeles County. 7 am. Arthur and Ariadne sit in a car, Arthur at the wheel. The twosome still rubbing sleep from their eyes, ignoring the rumble of their empty stomachs.

* * *

**The Past**

Contrary to expectation, the dreamers did not rent a fancy car or stay at a pricey hotel, prior to meeting their extractor and friend. _That would be deadly - and stupid_, Arthur evaluated.

Instead, they rested their heads at a small hostel named, _The Tenement House_. It was an out of the way shabby looking place with an informal check-in system and multiple exits. If you could pony up the cash, you could sleep for the night. Unfortunately, Ariadne realized, the low standards for entry also meant the hostel guests were not always pleasant... _Who am I kidding? I invade people's minds for a living. I'm traveling with Arthur - the human death machine. Hell, I'VE even killed people._

From the airport to the tenament house, Ariadne contemplates this quietly. She smiles to herself. The smile quickly fades,

"It's sick, y'know..."

"What's sick?" Arthur sits behind the steering wheel, not sure what Ariadne means.

"This. What we do. We go into people's minds. We play doctor. We hack away at the things that make people who they are. And we do this because we're addicted to it. To the power trip. To playing God in someone else's subconscious."

"Ari, please wait 'til we finish the mission to grow a conscience." The point man throws his most charmingest half-smile to the architect. A tiny spark of something dark lingers in her eyes. _Did I say something?_ "What?" The point man asks.

"You think I don't have a conscience."

_What?_ "No! No, I think you have a conscience. I-just-I think it will get in the way of the mission-" Ariadne looked at him directly, her eyes darkening mischieviously,

"Oh really?" A smiles spreads dangerously across her lips.

"No-Ariadne-that's... not what I meant." A small panic settles into the point man - which he covers by looking out of his left window. _How'd I manage to fuck up a small little conversation?_ Ariadne laughs.

She's never been witness to what Eames like to call, 'an Arthur-squirm-session." It was supposed to be a rare and subtle occurrence. She hardly expected she'd be the cause of it.

"Oh, relax Arthur. I take it as a compliment." Relief washs over the point man. He exhales discretely.

"Can't be a wuss and expect to survive doing extractions now, can I?" Ariadne throws a lighthearted smile at the point man who nods in agreement.

"It's rubbing off on you. Extraction... You're sounding more like Eames every day."

"Thank you," Ariadne enthused, looking at the road ahead.

"I didn't say it was a good thing."

"You were thinking it."

Arthur chuckles, deeply. The sound rumbling in his chest like a purr.

* * *

Their night was spent in a room with five drunken university students - two from England, one from Colombia and another two from Montreal. Five intoxicated sweaty men snored the night away a mere inches from Ariadne's head. The smell of alcohol added to the roaring chorus of nasal percussion. _How awesome_, Ariadne thought. It was all the architect could do to keep from snuffing her temporary roommates in their sleep with their own pillows. Their snores made the floor quake. Not surprisingly, Arthur, on a cot next to Ariadne, was fast asleep - not at all bothered by the noise coming from the extra bodies in the room. Arthur, the point man, was dead to the world. Then, Ariadne learned a new fact, Arthur didn't snore. _Well at least there's that._

The sleeping point man wore an expression of relaxed concentration as he lay on the cot, all dead-like. And once again, Ariadne was jealous of the Arthur's ability to be completely at ease in an uncomfortable situation. _This is so not fair._ With that, the architect flopped back onto her cot, her jacket spread over her like a sheet, with hands at her ears, and went to sleep.

* * *

**The Present**

"So," Ariadne exhales, "we meeting Cobb at his house? A coffee shop? Where're we meeting?"

"Along the way," Arthur states simply. They are in the car again, Arthur behind the wheel, Ariadne in the passenger's seat.

_That's not cryptic at all._ Ariadne is unimpressed.

"And he knows where coming," She looks to the point man for affirmation. The point man doesn't answer. She faces front, "Arthur, he knows we're coming, right?"

"Not exactly..."

Ariadne turns again to look at Arthur, her seatbelt zzzz-ing in the process. _You're kidding me-._ "You're kidding me, right?" The architect waits for an answer. Arthur turns the dial on the radio. "Arthur, we can't just SHOW UP at Cobb's home and expect a welcome wagon. What's he gonna say? 'Yes, I'd love to risk death and the destruction of my family for you Ariadne? Please.' You should've prepped him. He's not going to be ready!" In a huff the architect slumps further into her seat.

Arthur reaches for Ariadne's hand. He slides his hand slowly over her own, entwining their fingers. When she doesn't resist, he is content to let their hands remain entangled. "Ari, I know you're nervous, but you need to relax." Ariadne groans forcefully, "You've barely slept in the last fifty-two hours. You'll bust a vein if you don't calm down." He looks at Ariadne, his eyes full of understanding and concern. The architect wears dark circles under her eyes, her hair tied loosely in a messy half-updo. Ariadne is drained. "If I told Cobb we were coming, he'd've skipped town. I'd be risking the mission to tell him we were coming."

They ride together in silence. Arthur releases his grip to turn the steering wheel. Ariadne adjusts herself in her seat, using her now free hand to push herself up, wincing at the soreness still throbbing in her arm, before settling, once more, against the window.

"What are we gonna say when we see him?" The architect looks out of the window, "He won't like us going to his home, what with The Council chasing us and all." The car goes over a small pot hole. _Ow! _Ariadne's forehead hits the window. She rubs it quickly.

"I'll handle it. You, stay in the car."

"What? I don't get to be in on it? That hardly seems fair."

"It isn't. But fair isn't gonna get Cobb on our side. Besides, we need to keep the engine running in case The Council shows up." They pull into a parking lot. The parking lot services a small plaza where mothers wearing Hanes-Ts and yoga pants, carrying Gucci purses, drop off their dry cleaning, get their nails done, and their coffee fix. Ariadne spies a coffee shop at the corner of a plaza.

"Oh please tell me we're going to get something from the Coffee Bean. I'm so hungry."

Arthur reverses into a parking space. "I'll bring you back something."

"Thanks for the concern Arthur, but I can get my own coffee-"

"No, look." Arthur points.

Across the parking lot, a strapping sandy haired man wearing a blue T-shirt, jeans, and Keds opens the back of his Audi Q7. He pulls a large bag of clothes out of the SUV - to be dry cleaned, most likely. Ariadne's eyes widen,

"Cobb."

"He does his dry cleaning every few days at this hour." Arthur and Ariadne duck as Cobb walks near their vehicle. Huddled down in the car, "And today is one of those days."

"You know," Ariadne begins, her voice bouncing off the center console, "What you do, this whole... being a point man stuff... in an alternate universe, people would call it stalking."

"I know."

"So what's the plan Sherlock?"

"It takes him exactly eleven minutes to drop off his dry cleaning. Then he walks down to the coffee shop, where he spends the next half hour reading the newspaper. That's when we strike."

"And until then?"

"We wait."

_Great._ If there was one aspect of dream share Ariadne did not like... it was the waiting.

Ariadne's stomach growls.

* * *

**The Past**

Eames rests at local bar. Éjo, a tall slender man with ebony skin and a big smile, the bartender and go-to-guy for anything not - strictly speaking... legal, chats with his loyal patron.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had work."

"I do, Éjo. I do. This is work." Eames gulps his whiskey. Éjo eyes him warily.

"This doesn't look like work to me. I think you should stop. You've had enough."

Eames finishes his drink, setting the empty glass down on the bar, "Éjo, I'm fine. Believe me."

"I've heard that before."

Éjo surveys the bar.

Seconds pass, Eames rests his head in his hands atop the wooden bar. Éjo slides another drink Eames' way - atop a napkin. Eames resists.

"No, Éjo, I think you're right I've had e-"

"Take it." Éjo's eyes fill with desperation, as he pushes the drink earnestly toward the forger.

Unnerved by Éjo's intensity, the forger takes the drink. He looks at the napkin. Written in Éjo's hand in smudged blue ink, SOMEONE'S FOLLOWING YOU. RUN. Eames jams the napkin into his pocket. He looks at Éjo. The man's expression, one of alarm.

"How many are there?" The forger asks, casually standing up.

"Three." Eames throws a bill onto the bar. Éjo collects it.

"Have they seen me yet?"

"No, but they will soon. Walk around the back and exit into the alley. It will get you to the street and you can disappear." Eames straitens his blazer.

"Just like old times, eh?" Eames walks around the bar into the kitchen. Back at the bar, Éjo watches as three men, wearing beige suits, discretely follow the forger to the kitchen.

"Just like old times," The bartender mutters, as he wipes the counter with a wet rag. Éjo picks up the drink Eames left behind, downing it in one gulp.

* * *

Eames runs through the kitchen, cooks swerve to avoid the drunken forger. "'scuse me. Pardon me." Eames dodges people and cookware as he makes his way to the back exit. Footsteps rumble behind him as his pursuers make their way through the kitchen. The forger finds the back door. He bursts through it, stumbling into the dark alley.

His vision swimming, the forger is barely able to right himself before he hears the calls of his pursuers, "Eames!"_ Fuck!_ Eames races down the never ending and hopelessly obstacle-laden alley way. His vision bends and flips the alley into dream-like proportion. _What the fuck did you give me, Éjo? That's not whiskey._ Eames smacks into a stucco wall. He hadn't seen it jutting outof a building into the alleyway. The humid air of Mombasa slowly chokes the forger. _At least they haven't started shooting._

Zzzzzft! A bullet zooms past the forger's ear. Eames pushes his barely functioning body to its breaking point. Behind him, his pursuers have slowed down.

The first goon grabs the gun from the member of the trio holding the gun. "Are you mad? Boss needs him alive! He's no good to us dead, yeah!" He shoves the moron in the head. A second pursuer elbows the gun wielding goon in the stomach. The wind knocked out of him, the goon stops doubles over. The others pick up their pace, continuing after Eames.

Eames has made it to the street. People move about, minding their own business. Eames runs for cover across the street. A small crowd has gathered in a café to listen to a local jazz singer. Eames dips into the café. He takes a seat among a group of listeners who eye him with mild curiocity and pleasure. He nods his hellos to the group.

Outside, the goons have spread out combing the street for any sign of the forger.

"Eames," says the first goon, "I know you're in there. We just want to talk." He enters a café.

Eames turns to look at the entrance, a curvy curly haired woman, wearing a maroon dress and Mary Janes, and her husband, wearing black slacks and a navy blue shirt, enter the café. _Whew!_ The forger slumps into his seat. The husky timber of the singer's voice soothes the forger as his mind races to figure out his next move.

Inside the other café, the first goon has searched through the main room. The café is fairly empty. He goes to the bathrooms, both men's and women's. He busts the doors open. No one. Frustrated and angry, the goon kicks in the door to a bathroom stall. The door breaks.

Goon two runs past a crowded café. Music emanates from the coffee house. Inside, a crowd has gathered to listen to some singer - she sounds like a jazz singer. The goon enters the café. Eames hears the door open and close.

In a second, the forger has shot up from his seat and raced toward the side exit. The goon speaks into his watch. Presumably calling his friends to help him.

Eames runs along the side of the building, headed toward another side street. The forger is faring no better than before. In fact, the sudden change from sitting to running has given the forger vertigo. The forger stops to hide around a corner. _Bloody Bollocks! What the fuck did Éjo give me?_ The forger slides down, against the wall, and sits on the ground.

Goons one and two round the corner, they stop when they see the forger, gasping for breath on the ground next to them.

"I promise you, I'm worth more to you alive." Eames pulls himself to his feet. Goon one grabs Eames by the collar. Eames tries to push the goon away, but he can barely see strait.

"We know that." He shoves Eames against the wall. The forger slides down again, gasping for air.

"Who are you? What do you want from me?"

"We work for the people who hired you for the extraction in Paris. I guess that makes us... your colleagues." Goon one smiles at goon two. They chuckle.

"What...what do you want...?" Goon two snatches Eames up off the ground and tosses him against the wall once more. The world is spinning.

"The company has not heard from you or Arthur for a very long time now. The Boss expects results. Where are they?" Eames tries to speak, but it unable to with Goon two choking him. The goon loosens his grip. Eames gasps for another breath of air. "The results!" Goon two knees Eames, a sick whine escapes from the forger's lips. "Where are they?"

"They're-coming. I... promise. Compli...cations. We ran into," _coughs repeatedly, "_complications." _Eames wheezes _

Goon one steps closer to Eames. The forger tries to look at him, despite Goon two's restricting hold around his neck . "What kinds of complications?"

"Nothing. It's been taken care of..." the forger gasps, "I swear."

Goon two steps away from the forger, who turns to the wall, slumping against it for support.

Goon two puts on a pair of gloves, the other follows suit, "I wish you're promises were enough to satisfy our boss. But you know what kind of person he is-"

"Impatient," Goon one starts.

"Mmhmm, and angry."

"Very results oriented."

"Yes," goon two looks at Eames who is unable to focus on one the second pursuer's many heads. "So, y'see. We have to get our hands dirty, to make the boss happy." Eames braces himself for what is sure to be a brutal beating.

"Please, don't make us have to do this again," Goon one states, surprisingly sympathetic, "We have better things to do."

"And the next time," Goon two adds, "We won't be able to show you mercy."

WHOMPH! Goon two kicks Eames' already unsteady legs out from under him. The forger falls face first onto the ground. Eames manages to grab the goon's foot and pull him off balance. Just as Goon two falls to the ground, Goon number one kicks Eames in the side. The forger curls into a ball, protecting his head as the full-scale assault rains down on him. In the silence of the night, the only sound is of shoes and fists connecting with human flesh and bone as the subject struggles to remain conscious.

* * *

**The Present**

In the parking lot, Ariadne and Arthur are still crouch in their vehicle. They watch Cobb exit the dry cleaners with a newspaper and head into the coffee shop.

"Okay, now you go." Ariadne says to Arthur.

"No, not yet. I want to wait 'til he's settled. I saw the line in there. He'll be waiting to order for at least another six minutes."

_Gah!_ This waiting game was really beginning to suck. It took Dom an extra ten minutes at the dry cleaners because the guy working the cash register was new and didn't know how to put his order into the computer. Twenty-one minutes gone by with another thirty-six to go.

The wait wouldn't feel so bad if Ariadne had been able to eat something after they'd left the hostel.

Arthur's phone vibrates.

"Who is it?" The architect inquires.

"Yusuf," Arthur answers the phone. The frantic chemist waits breathlessly on the line, "Hello?"

"Arthur! Eames-was-attacked-I-found-him-on-the-ground-in-an-alley-someone-really-did-a-number-on-him-they-broke-three-ribs-"

"Wait-Yusuf, slow down. What happened?"

"Eames! He was attacked!"

"Attacked?" Arthur and Ariadne share a look. The architect is alert. "By who?"

"Some thugs hired by your employers for your other job. He said they weren't seeing results soon enough. Arthur, they broke three of his ribs, gave him a concussion-! Look, there's more, but I can't list it all. I found him in an alley. Passed out. Arthur, you need to finish your other job, first. I can't have two sets of killers coming after me."

"Don't worry, Yusuf. I'll handle it. Tell Eames to hang in there." Ariadne points to herself, mouthing the words: 'Me Too.' "And tell him Ariadne said to hang in there too."

"Arthur," Yusuf begins, "I'm serious. Finish the extraction first. Inception will need much more time and we won't have that time if they keep beating up members of your team."

"Alright," Arthur concedes.

"Are you listening, Arthur?"

"Yes, Yusuf. I'm listening. I understand. I have to go."

"Talk soon."

"Bye." Arthur ends the call. The point man slips his cell phone into his pocket. Arthur pounds the arm rest,"Shit!"

"What happened?" Ariadne asks, more than a little worried.

"They attacked Eames."

"They who?"

"Our employers. The ones who hired us for the extraction. They just attacked Eames in Mombasa." Ariadne's eyes fill with shock,

"What? Why?"

"They said they aren't seeing results."

"Not seeing results! We've been updating them every week!"

"Well, apparently that's not good enough." A moment of silence passes between them. Ariadne gets up from her crouched position in front of her seat. She relaxes back into the chair.

"So, now we've got two agencies after us. ONE wants to knock us off, the OTHER wants to bludgeon us 'til we black out. What's next?" Ariadne cradles her head in her hand. Racking her brain to try and understand how the situation went from bad... to worse.

"You still want to do this, Ari?" Arthur stops to look at the arichect. She is on the verge of a violent breakdown, "Dreamshare. Do you still want to do it? Is it worth all this?"

Ariadne looks up at the point man. His swarthy eyes burn with an odd intensity Ariadne's never seen before. "What are you talking about, Arthur?"

"Answer the question." _Where this harsh tone is coming from?_ Figuring it's best to play along, she answers.

"Yes. I still want this." Ariadne can't understand where her own resolve is coming from.

"Good. Because nothing's changed. We continue with the plan. We get Cobb on board, we fly back to Paris. We finish the extraction. Then we perform inception. We can work on the extraction case during the day, and perform tasks for the inception at night."

"When do we sleep?"

"When we're done." Arthur opens his door. He tosses the keys to Ariadne before he gets out, shutting his door. Ariadne locks it behind him.

* * *

**The Past**

Silence. Mombasa is silent. Pitch-black. And silent.

But this isn't really Mombasa. This is Eames' mind. This is the view from inside Eames' mind. Dark silent agonizing pain. That's what Eames' world feels like.

Each wave of pain moves the forger closer and closer to consciousness. Slowly, gently, gently, the forger opens his eyes. A dim yellow light blares, furious and wicked, in Eames' face. Aware of the pain in his lungs, the forger wants to scream. But he can't. The pain is too great. His vocal chords chafe from the effort, scraping against one another like dried reeds in the desert sun.

Consciousness is underwater. Every small move, every tiny gesture, sends the world swirling again.

Eames' mind is silent. Minus the ringing in his ears. Like a choir of jingle bells sounding somewhere in the distance. Except this is not Christmas. This is hell.

Light, pain, and swirls. Reality slowly seeps into the forger. His mind kicking him out of his warm, pain free, cocoon. Consciousness being forced upon him by the angry jolts of pain coursing through his body. Through his arms. His legs. His chest. His mind. Swirls of blinding golden light flash painfully before him, beckoning him like a vice.

Something warm and wet runs down Eames' neck. The smell of metal consumes his nose. Fire. Across his face. They sliced his face, right on the jawbone.

Oxygen rushes into the forger's lungs, raw and angry, taunting him with humidity

Now, an hour after the attack. The men are nowhere to be found.

The forger's head is bleeding. The golden light - a solar flare - a streetlamp. A solar flare, once more. The night is dark, and still. The air is tainted with the smell of iron. The smell of blood. The smell of Eames' blood. The forger can barely move.

Unable to scream, unable to speak, the forger lies on the ground. The solar flare becomes a street lamp once more. A swirly haze, but a streetlamp no less.

Eames rolls painfully onto his side. Colors flash behind his eyes. He spits. Thick globules of blood and saliva _**smack**_ the ground. His lips are bloody. His shirt, covered in bloodstains. Eames tries to lift himself up off the ground. He flops back down as a shooting pain ricochets up his arms, through his chest, and into his lungs. Another jolt of pain finds him as his body makes contact, once more, with the ground. Remain still. Rest.

Eames braces himself. The forger pushes past the pain. Reaches into his breast pocket for his cell phone. Flashes of color and light. Swirls of light. 5. Haze. Speaker...

The phone rings. Yusuf answers, "Hello?" Eames fights for air.

"Hello?" Yusuf repeats. A horse exhale, as Eames fights to speak. "Eames, is that you?"

"Atta..." Eames fights. Solar Flare.

"Eames, I-I can't hear you. Speak up."

"At-tack..."

"Attack...? Who's been attacked Eames?"

Eames battles for one more breathe. Swirls of light. Solar flare. Streetlamp.

"Help... me..."

Waves of water flood Eames' consciousness.

"Hold on Eames. I'm coming..."

Fading...

"Hold on...

"Hold on...

The solar flare engulfs all.

* * *

**The Present**

Arthur enters the coffee shop. Dominic Cobb, in his t-shirt and jeans, sits at a table reading a news paper. Arthur approaches the extractor cautiously. Cobb speaks first, not taking his eyes off his news paper,

"I saw you in the parking lot. I was wondering when you'd come in and present yourself." Dom lowers his newspaper, lifting his head to see Arthur standing next to him, "I'm surprised it took you this long. But you were probably thinking you'd let me get comfy so I wouldn't run off, which is very astute of you, Arthur."

"I guess I need to brush up on my tailing skills." The point man wasn't expecting such forwardness from the extractor.

Ever since things had gotten back to normal for Cobb, he and Arthur's relationship reverted to its old dynamic. One of love, smugness, and a heaping helping of patronizing.

"Yes. I guess you do." Cobb's smugness is in full effect. Arthur has to keep from rolling his eyes. "Pull up a chair, Arthur. Don't be a stranger. How is everything? How's your mom?"

The point man sits across from Dom.

"She's fine. Upset with my stepdad, though. He keeps trying to fix things around the house."

Dom laughs at the images the scenario conjures up, "And Eames?"

Arthur's expression darkens. "He's been better. He's in Mombasa right now."

"And how's Ariadne managing... with the gunshot n' all?"

"That's actually the reason I wanted to talk to you..."

_RED FLAG! _"Did something happen? Is she alright?" Millions of scenarios - involving Cobb's father-in-law, Miles, hating him for killing his star pupil - flood the extractor's thoughts.

Arthur nods to quell the panic rising behind the extractor's eyes, "She's fine. She's fine. A bit frazzled but fine." Cobb exhales, relieved.

"Then what is it?" he presses.

"Ariadne needs your help. The team needs your help." Cobb folds his newspaper.

"What's the job?"

"An inception-"

"I knew it."

"What?"

"I knew that's what you were going to ask."

"Well?" the point man asks, "What's your answer."

"I need a reason first."

"A reason."

"Yes. I need to know your motivation. Why are you performing another inception?"

"Dom, we can't do this successfully without you. You're the best in the business."

"Stroking my ego will get you nowhere."

"Fine. Ariadne's life is at stake. People will kill her if we don't help."

"Not good enough."

"What?" _He can't be serious,_ "I just said she'll die!"

"Not good enough, Arthur."

"You owe her. For the inception. She gave you your life back. The least you could do is return the favor"

"I owe her nothing. She was paid commission, like everyone else."

"Yeah, but she saved your ass big time, Cobb. If it weren't for her, you'd probably still be in limbo."

"True. But that's not good enough."

_What! I. Am. THIS! Close to strangling-! Gah!_ "I don't know what you want, Cobb! There's nothing more I can tell you."

"Arthur, you keep telling me reasons why I should take on this mission, but that's not the question I asked you. I need to know why YOU want to do this mission."

"I'm doing this because Ariadne is a friend. Because she's helped us all and doesn't deserve to die at the hands of head-hunters."

Cobb sips his coffee and returns to reading his newspaper. A scowl to scare children plants itself on Arthur's face, "Remind me, when you're older and your kids are grown and out of the house, to come over and put you out of my misery."

Cobb lowers his coffee cup, "the answer's really simple, Arthur."

"Apparently not!"

"Yes it is. Think about why you want to help her. What is it about Ariadne that makes you want to help her? How do you feel about her?"

"She's a nice person!" Arthur has HAD IT with this discussion.

"Uh-huh," Cobb smiles mischievously, "what else?"

Arthur thinks, "I guess, she's fun to be around... She's smart. Her taste is music is pretty nice too. And she can fend for herself. You don't have to babysit her." _Where is he going with this?_

"And how does that make you feel, Arthur?" A Cheshire grin finds its home on Cobb's face.

"I don't know. I-guess-it makes me like her more."

"So, you wanna help Ariadne because..."

"Because it'd be much easier to date her if she was alive." Face. Palm.

"No." _For someone so smart, Arthur is clueless._

Arthur thinks once more, "...Because I like her."

_Finally! _Cobb exhales in satisfaction, _"_Because you like her." Cobb leans toward Arthur. He squints his serious squint, reaching his hand around to slap Arthur on the back, "Now THAT is a good reason."

_Thank God this madness is over,_ "Are you convinced?" Arthur asks, eagerly.

Cobb leans back, clutching his news paper and coffee cup, "I was convinced from the moment you walked in."

"Really?" _Really!_ "Then what the hell was all this for?"

"To get you to admit it to yourself."

"What? That I like her."

"That you like her." Cobb smiles happily.

_Eye roll._ Arthur gets up to order two coffees, two muffins, and two coffee cakes.

"Is Ariadne here with you?" Cobb asks once Arthur returns to the table.'

"Yeah, she's waiting outside."

A moment of silence passes. "How did you know?" Cobb asks.

"Know what?" The point man feigns innocence.

"That I was gonna make you to say you liked her." Arthur shrugs,

"It's what you do, Dom. It's what you've always done. Except, this time, I was prepared and told Ariadne not to come."

"Smart man."

"I know. Listen, Cobb, I need you on a flight to Paris as soon as possible. We're meeting at the BP."

"The BP? THEE BP?"

"Yes." Arthur's order is called_. _Before walking to the counter to retrieve it, thanks the extractor. "I'll see you soon Dom. Thanks again."

"Of course."

Arthur exits the shop with breakfast in hand. Ariadne hugs the point man upon his entry into the vehicle. Her attention quickly turns to food before her. Mouth filed with muffin, "How'd it go?"

"He said yes."

"Thank God." Ariadne shoves more muffin into her mouth before taking a really long sip of her coffee.

* * *

**A/N:** Highlights: 1. Keeping a low profile = unsexy hostel visits. 2. Arthur doesn't snore and can sleep through anything (admirable). 3. Éjo is not to be trusted (that bastard) 4. Mowgli's mind can be a very scary place. 5. Arthur likes Ariadne (paging captain obvious) 6. COBB SAID YES! (happydancetime!)

Rate/Review! [pleeeeeeeeeeease? (pweeze?):D ]

Hope you enjoyed this extra long (hard to write, ngl) chappie. (I do it all for you, My Lovlies :D)

-RaifandRosefan.


	8. The Sleepy Reunion

**A/N:** Wuss' good, my peops!

Thanks to **Legal-Assassin-006**,** musicchica10** and **Gasp **for your reviews. Everyone who put me on their Alerts/Favorites BIG FAT WET KISSES for you! THANK YOU ILY :D

Sorry this chapter is so late. Please don't hate me. Please review/rate/subscribe/favorite/whatever anyway!

**FYI: **Please pay careful attention to the details in this chapter. I introduce new concepts that may take 2-3 readings to understand (if I did my job, hopefully not). But Anyway, Let me know if you like the new concept. The concept is called the 1st Primordial Law of Psychological-Physics. I'll talk more about it in the A/N at the end of the story.

**Disclaimer:** I put the "Pshh!" In INCEPTION!

- RaifandRosefan

* * *

Chapter 8: The Sleepy Reunion

It's midmorning, Zelda, wearing a charcoal grey cashmere sweater and white floral skirt, sits in her apartment, waiting for her guests to arrive. She is restless. It's been a number of years since she's been part of a real job. Sure, she's done the odd spy job for a friend, but nothing so serious as a full blown inception. She was determined to do the best she could and to be the best host she's ever been.

There's a knock at the door.

Zelda rises from her seat, eager to greet the person on the other side of her door.

"Are you here to deliver the groceries I ordered?" She waits for the answer.

When the Backup Point was established, the team agreed upon a number of coded exchanges - sort of like a two person password. This would keep the team members from opening the door for enemies in disguise, and warn them if a stranger was waiting on the inside. Any slight deviation from the script and the jig was up.

Out of breath from practically carrying Eames up the stairs, Yusuf answers. "Yes," he gasps.

"But the cake is still in the truck."

With a smile, Zelda swings her door wide open.

"Blimey!"

The woman blanches at the sight before her. Yusuf is about ready to collapse under Eames' weight. And the forger looks half dead under all his bruises. Zelda rushes to lift Eames, relieving Yusuf of his burden. He drops to the floor in fatigue.

"Hello, Zeze." Eames offers with a weak toothy smile. The elder woman plops Eames onto the couch. Yusuf runs to the kitchen where he fills a glass with tap water. He gulps the water as quickly as possible. Zelda moves to close her apartment door.

Glass refilled, Yusuf traipses into the living room. Eames rests on the couch, Zelda sitting next to him. She looks at the battered forger.

"Yusuf, what the hell happened to Mo_-Eames_?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he says lazily, plopping down into a chair, "Someone beat the living shit out of him." Yusuf sips his water.

Zelda bristles, "I mean HOW did it happen? Where? Who would do such a bloody thing?"

Eames groans as he tries to sit up, his chest hurts where his ribs were broken. Metal braces have been screwed in place to help them heal. Dark bruises cover nearly half the forger's face. His left eye is still swollen. The shift in position makes the forger dizzy. He groans, looking up to the ceiling - revealing the stitches on his jaw.

"My word. What have they done to you, darling?" Zelda says sympathetically. She looks over at Yusuf. "What can I do?"

"Perhaps you could prop his feet up on a pillow?" Yusuf shrugs.

"Right." Zelda goes to her linen closet, she removes two pillows and a blanket. She returns to the living room where Eames continues to stare at the ceiling, groaning loudly - partly in pain, partly for his own amusement. After removing his shoes, Zelda props the forger's feet up on the coffee table where they are supported by a pillow. The second pillow rests behind the forger's head. Zelda tucks the blanket around the wounded man.

"Thank you, Zeze." Eames utters. Zelda smoothes the forger's hair.

"You're welcome, deary. Now rest." Eames nods, smiling. He nuzzles into Zelda's hand as she caresses his cheek and hair. He burrows into his sheet. In mere moments, the forger has fallen asleep, his wounds sapping what's left of his energy.

Zelda turns away from the forger, looking sharply at Yusuf who innocently sips the water in his glass. Grabbing her lighter and cigarette from the table, Zelda silently motions for Yusuf to follow her onto the terrace. As she nears the French doors, she grabs a knitted sweater resting on the back of a dinning chair.

She opens the door and steps out. Yusuf follows her. She closes the door behind them. Before a word can be said, Zelda has lit a cigarette and lodged it between her lips. She offers one to Yusuf, who smiles and politely nods his thanks.

After a few puffs, Zelda starts,

"Alright, now I want you to cut the bullshit and tell me why Eames is covered in cuts and bruises."

Yusuf removes his cigarette, "It's from an extraction. Eames, Ariadne, and Arthur were hired for an extraction that needs to be done before we can even start Ariadne's inception. The men who hired them sent a few men after Eames while he was in Mombasa to get me. Apparently, the boss isn't seeing results fast enough."

"Shit," Zelda blows smoke.

"Yeah," Yusuf nods. He takes another drag on his cigarette. "I don't know how they expect this to work. Eames is barely in any condition to share the dream."

"They have to make it work. That girl is going to die if they don't." Zelda leans against the banister. She looks out over the rooftops of her neighborhood. The day is cloudy - no sun - but there is no threat of rain. Yusuf turns to have a look as well. The nearby park is full of mothers with children riding brightly colored tricycles. The sound of childish laughter wafts its way up to the dreamers. They smoke in silence. Zelda looks down at the sidewalk in front of her building. A familiar looking man carrying a gift basket wearing a blue baseball cap, with honey colored hair and the most basic shoes a man could ever wear - the shoes! How could she forget those ancient Keds? If not wearing dress shoes, the man was perpetually wearing Keds. Zelda turns to Yusuf, cigarette in mouth,

"Dom's here."

Yusuf looks down at the sidewalk nine stories below. Dom opens the building's front door. Both Yusuf and Zelda head for the terrace doors. Yusuf holds the door open for Zelda who enters. Yusuf steps in, closing the door behind him. Zelda crosses the dining area. She goes through the living room, heading toward the kitchen. Yusuf takes a seat in the living room in a chair next to Eames, who is snoring lightly.

"Oh, pardon my horrible manners, Yusuf. I was so surprised by Eames, I forgot to ask: would you like some tea?"

"Yes, thank you." Yusuf nestles into his chair. He flicks ashes off is his cigarette into the glass ashtray on the table. He nestles back into the chair. The doorbell rings.

"Would you get that, Yusuf?" Zelda yells from the kitchen, "Before Eames wakes up."

Reluctantly, Yusuf rises from his chair and walks over to the door.

"Are you here to deliver the groceries I ordered?" Yusuf asks.

"Yes," Dom answers, "But the cake is still in the truck." Yusuf opens the door.

Dom, on the other side of the door, carries a monstrously large gift basket with chocolates, cigars, and fruit - for Zelda, of course.

Dom, all sunshine and smiles, starts, "Hey-!"

"Shhh!" Yusuf covers Dom's mouth placing a finger over his own lips for emphasis. Yusuf points to the sleeping forger. Dom's shocked expression relaxes. Yusuf lowers his hand. In a quieter voice, Dom starts,

"I see Arthur wasn't kidding."

Yusuf shakes his head, "No. They laid into him pretty good."

"Jeeze." Dom takes a moment to survey the apartment. As old and classy as ever. Remembering his gift basket, he picks it up off the floor. "Oh, uh, this is for Zelda."

Zelda appears from around the corner. "Dom!" She exclaims softly, holding out her arms to hug the extractor she's known going on fourteen years.

"Zeze!" He smiles. They embrace. He kisses her cheek and places the basket in her hands. She smiles looking at its contents.

"Cuban cigars! Chocolate? You really do know how to spoil an old lady, don't you?" Zelda places the basket on her large mahogany dining table. "We'll figure out what to do with the fruits later. Perhaps a smoothie will do nicely?" Zelda moves like a whirlwind. So happy to see her old friend. "Would you care for some tea, Dom? I got it recently in Shanghai. It's practically orgasmic!"

Dom laughs, "Sure, Zeze. Thank you." He and Yusuf take a seat in the living room. Zelda appears with a plate of cookies. She walks over to her gift basket and removes a large bar of chocolate, which she breaks into smaller pieces. The tray of cookies and chocolate go onto the coffee table. "Here, while the water's boiling, have a snack." Yusuf and Dom each grab a cookie.

As he settles into his seat, Dom looks at the sleeping forger. _Mm. m-m-m._ He shakes his head.

"Oh, it's so good to see you, darling!" Zelda gushes, "I thought - with you retiring and all - that I'd never get to **see** you again. How are the children? How is Miles? Does he still teach at the university?"

"The children are wonderful, Zee."

"I bet they were glad to have their father back," she smiles. "Do bring them to Paris sometime so I can see them!"

"I will, Zee. And I'll be going back to them, when we finish this mission. And of course Miles is still teaching. I can't imagine him ever doing anything else." Zelda laughs. The kettle whistles.

"Let me go get that." Zelda exits. Dom turns to Yusuf,

"When are Ari and Arthur getting here?"

"Soon. They're on their way."

* * *

Downstairs, Arthur holds the door open for Ariadne. She steps in quietly. Arthur follows, closing the door behind him. The point man is on the phone with his employer.

"-that was unnecessary! I had it under control-yes!," Arthur listens, "I told you we needed more time. Our mark is savvy. He'll notice us tracking him!" Arthur's eyes widen on his otherwise stoic face, "I told you that last week!" The point man curses silently at the man on the other end. "Alright-yeah-uh-huh that doesn't give you the right to beat the shit outta one of my men! We need him. He almost DIED!... No! You don't _beat_ the fucking forger!... He goes under with us! He's the fucking **forger**!... Next time tell your men to use some sense, or this job is over, with or without your results... No, sir. It's a promise... Listen. List-en-to-me. I can't. Go into. A subject's mind. With a _fucked_ _up_ **forger**! Your goons just cost you money. No, I can't get another one!... Because he's the best! That's why. If you want the job done at all, you'll call off your dogs... Because they can't get their head outta their asses long enough to **think** about what they're doing!... Yeah. Three more days... Thanks a lot. Talk soon." Arthur ends the call. "Jeezus! The man's an idiot!"

Ariadne looks at Arthur. They share a glance. The tiniest of smiles twinkles behind his eyes. Ariadne sighs, reaching for the banister. Eighteen flights of stairs to go. Ariadne looks up at the miles of curving banister above her. _This place needs an elevator._ Ariadne bounds up the first flight.

* * *

Inside the apartment, the doorbell rings. Dom and Yusuf look up as Zelda heads for the door.

With the pass code being used twice in one day, Zelda uses an alternate.

"Who knocks at the gate?" She asks.

"A party guest with popcorn," Arthur answers.

Zelda turns to Dom and Yusuf, "They're here." She smiles, opening the door. Dom looks from the woman to his well dressed friend.

Ariadne steps through the door, followed by Arthur. Zelda greets her newest guests with a joyous hug.

"Please, please. Sit down. Make yourselves at home." Ariadne and Arthur enter the living room.

"Yusuf!" Ariadne embraces the chemist, "thank you for coming!"

"Of course, Ariadne" the chemist sing-songs.

Dom and Arthur exchange a brotherly hug. Their first in a very long time. After everyone has been greeted - all except Eames who remains asleep on the couch - they settle into their seats in the living room. Zelda brings out a tray of teacups followed by a teapot. Arthur, Ariadne, and Eames rest on the couch. Zelda, Dom, and Yusuf sit in chairs. At the center, a coffee table offers cookies, chocolate, and cigarettes. Zelda's three C's.

Placing his teacup on the table, Dom looks at Arthur, "So, Yusuf tells me you've got another job at the moment." Cobb nods to Eames, "And by the looks of our forger, that job needs to be completed before we can figure out who's behind the Council's attacks on Ariadne."

"Right." Arthur answers curtly. He hates when Dom nutshells. "I secured three more days. That's barely enough time, but we've gotta make it work."

As Arthur, Dom, Zelda, and Yusuf plan, Ariadne looks at the forger laying next to her on the couch. His face is almost unrecognizable with the swelling and bruises. A knot grows in her stomach. A storm brews within Ariadne's mind.

_Can he even see?_ She asks herself,_ His eyes are so swollen. _

_Ariadne... Ariadne, _A foreign voice from within calls to her.

_This is your fault. _

_You're the reason he's hurt. _

_Ariadne. _

_These things always happen to you. _

_Fuck! __**I'm**__ the one with the council on my ass, yet he's the one getting beat up. This is all my fault. _

_Yes. It's your fault, Ari. You did this. _

_I did this. _

_But it was an accident. I wouldn't wish this on him. _

_You did this, Ari. _

_Ariadne. _

_Ariadne. You did this. _

_No! I didn't mean to!_

_Accept it. Everyone you know will get hurt. _

_Ariadne._

_... Everyone I know gets hurt..._

_Ari..._

"Ari? Ariadne. A-ri-ad-ne." Arthur, Zelda, Dom and Yusuf look at the architect, worried. She appears lost in a horrific daydream. She holds her teacup and saucer with white knuckles. The point man nudges Ariadne.

"Ari?"

"Huh-what? Oh. Sorry, my mind ran away from me." The architect shakes the thoughts from her head. _I need to get more sleep. Pronto!_

"We could tell," Dom responds.

"Anything I could help you with, darling?" Zelda offers.

"No, sorry," the architect answers, eager to change the subject.

"Okay," Dom starts, "Who's gonna wake up Eames?"

No one volunteers. A minute passes.

"Fine. I'll do it." Zelda relents, exasperated. She walks over to the forger. "Eames, dear," she shakes him lightly. "Eames, honey, wake up. Everyone's here. Give us ten minutes. Then, you can go back to sleep, love."

Eames groans as he meets consciousness. In a few blinks, the forger is awake - groggy - but awake, "Hey..." he begins. "It's a party. Dom. It's good to see you, mate."

"It's good to see you too, Eames. You look like hell."

"You should see the other guy." They chuckle lightly. It was a dry joke, but any joke coming from the forger is a welcome one. "Now, what do you kamikazes have planned?"

"Arthur's gotten us three days more days to finish the job. You're going to sit this one out. We'll need you for the inception, and you need your rest. Besides, no one wants a tour through your mind with all those painkillers coursing through your system."

"Works for me," Eames enthuses as he nestles further into his blanket.

"And as your replacement, Zelda and I are going in. Yusuf is gonna tailor compounds to support our entry."

"Oh, Zeze you're going back into the field! That's good. A seer will definitely be useful," Eames comments, lazily. Zelda gathers the empty teapot and heads toward the kitchen.

"I'll be back with some more tea. Try not to miss me while I'm gone."

Ariadne gets up from her seat. She follows Zelda into the kitchen. Arthur watches the architect leave. Cobb playfully nudges the distracted point man, shaking him from his daydream. The extractor rests his shoeless feet on the coffee table. Yusuf lights another cigarette.

In the kitchen Ariadne stands at the sink, next to Zelda. Zelda is focused, cutting sandwiches for her houseguests. The grey haired woman smiles upon noticing Ariadne. "And how are you getting along? You look positively knackered."

"I am. I haven't slept a wink since leaving here the other day."

"Was it all that wild sex with our point man?" A mischievous grin lights Zelda's face, "I could see that being a hindrance."

Ariadne laughs. _This woman has no shame!_ "Zelda! You have no shame." She shakes her head.

Using her dishrag, Zelda smacks Ariadne on the rump. "You should really consider it, darling. I think he fancies you - don't tell him I said that. It couldn't hurt to give it a try. And something tells me he's _very_ capable... if you know what I mean." She winks at the young woman.

"Zelda!" Ariadne scoffs lightly at the woman's forwardness. It's probably been a long time since she's talked shop with someone who didn't have testicles and a prostate.

"But something tells me you're not here to discuss matters of the flesh." Zelda slices a sandwich into four.

Ariadne takes this as her cue to speak, "Back in the room you said you were a... Seer. What's a seer?"

Zelda looks at the young woman. "Nobody told you what a Seer was. What the hell were you all doing during inception?"

"Trying to keep the mission afloat." Arthur answers, as he rounds the corner to enter the kitchen. _Oh no,_ Ariadne worries, _I hope he didn't hear our conversation._ Arthur stands on the other side of Zelda, all relaxed and unaware. _No, probably not._

Turning to Ariadne to answer the still unanswered question, Zelda states, "A seer can see what's going to happen in a dream, before it happens." She smiles a dangerous smile.

Her interest sparked, Ariadne leans in on the granite countertop, "How?"

The elder woman, states simply, "It's all based on Primordial Law."

"What's that?"

"You don't know what primordial law is."

"No," Ariadne answers, unashamed.

"You came up under Dom Cobb and he didn't teach you about primordial law?" The woman cuts a sideways glance at Arthur, "That man must've really been slipping." Arthur shrugs. Turning back to Ariadne, she continues. "Primordial law is one of the founding principles of dream share. It's the first law of Psychological-Physics. Most scientists would tell you it's a theory, but those scientists have also never heard of dream sharing."

"So, what does primordial law say?"

Realizing the level of Ariadne's ignorance, Zelda turns her back to lean on the kitchen counter. Arthur and Ariadne follow suit, turning their heads to listen to the older dreamer's knowledgeable words.

"Okay, let me start at the beginning...

"You know how you get moments of déjà vu, where you swear you already saw, heard, said, or _did_ something? Well those moments are said to come from our Universal Beginning. All of existence had, at one time, been connected. Our spirits, the past, the present, all of us, everything we know - including time - existed in this primordial soup.

"Before life as we knew it existed, before the current state of physical existence could separate humans from time, we were not bound by physics. We were not bound by the laws of time that limit us to the present. We could see the past. Our spirits could move fluidly through time. We saw what was and what was to be. And because we were not bound by physics or by human infirmity, because we were limitless spirits, we could understand and remember all that we, and the rest of those who would come into existence, had done and will do.

"All of this knowledge is retained in our subconscious, that part of humanity that is not bound by physics. That boundless part of us is known as Humanity's Universal Knowledge Source, or HUKS for short. Anyway, our retained knowledge is reflected in dreams. What a mark or his projections will do in a dream are all reactions to information gathered from the Universal Source."

Ariadne chimes in, "So you're saying that what we dream doesn't come from our conscious experiences, but from what we saw billions of years ago, when we were part of a big primordial soup?"

"Partially, yes." Zelda starts, "But what we experience day to day - the emotions we go through - they make our dreams much more vivid. They are what makes a dream terrifying or exciting. They are what provides the emotional connection to the dream. Having a dream based solely on knowledge from the Universal Source is like studying an event from a history book. No matter how often you study it, you will always be an outsider reading about something in the past, or a dreamer, watching a boring movie. But a dream based on both conscious existence and universal knowledge is like jumping into a time machine and experiencing the historical event for yourself. Your mind, will and emotions are plugged directly into the event. The stakes are real. The reward is real."

"So," the architect begins, "both our conscious experiences and our universal knowledge influence our dreams?"

"Yes," says the seer.

"But why do I rarely ever dream about the lives I saw during my primordial existence? Why are my dreams mostly about me or people I know directly?

"That's because of the tendency of our physical state to like things we can relate to. That's why we live in houses and frequent the same restaurants. We stick to what is familiar, what we know or like. That physical part of ourselves limits the scope of our dreams. But there are hiccups in the dream. There are times when we meet people we don't know, but most of us assume that those strangers represent us in the dream. However, those could very well be people whose spirits we identified with when we existed in our limitless state."

"Like a primordial friend!" Ariadne enthuses.

"Exactly! We had primordial friends that our subconscious remembers, and we project those friends into the dream because we can see a bit of ourselves in them. They are familiar."

"So, everything I knew about how we were created was wrong?"

"Not at all," Zelda insists, "This law has nothing to do with evolution or creationism or the big bang or whatever you believe. We are not a religion. We are a profession. Primordial Law only deals with creation's existence _before_ Earth came to be. Not _how_ we came to be. Primordial existence occurred before physical existence."

"And you believe this." Ariadne states, somewhat incredulous.

"Of course I do." Zelda insists, with a flip of her hand, "Most extractors do. I am surprised you were not told of this before!"

Ariadne throws a sideways glance at Arthur, who does his best to ignore it. "My mentors weren't exactly sharing philosophies with me over hot chocolate when I started. So, just to be clear, before we were humans... we were all spirits. And as spirits, we could move through time and see everything that was to come, for eternity?" She pauses to look at Zelda and Arthur, "That's pretty hard to believe."

Zelda sips her cup of tea, "Dear, you steal secrets from people's subconscious for a living... do we really need to start a debate over which is more unbelievable?"

"Good point."

"Yeah," Zelda finishes. With that she loads the refilled teapot and sandwich platter onto her silver tray. Arthur takes the tray for her, carrying it out to the living room, where the rest of the group lounges. Ariadne and Zelda follow. Ariadne pays special attention to the shape of Arthur's back and the strength of his hands. Arthur feels her gaze.

* * *

**A/N: WARNING: TL:: DR** HUKS is pronounced, Hoooks.

Anyway, I was watching Inception, and a thought occured to me.

Physics in the dream world is so malleable and so _unlike_ the real world. And being that in the real world, there are Laws of Physics, why can't there be similar laws in the dream world. The only difference between them would be that, instead of laws existing to explain Earth's physics and why things behave as they do in reality, these laws would explain Dream Physics and why things behave as they do in dreams. And because things that occur in dreams occur in the mind - meaning they are psychological- these laws would be called Laws of _Psychological_ Physics. The Physics of the dream, of the mind.

If you like the law, (or the new role "Seer,") let me know & feel free to reference them in your stories (You don't have to explain the whole thing. Just **reference** this story clearly, "Inception story: The Solution by RaifandRosefan," in your author's note. I will love you FOREVER!)

I hope you all paid attention to the details in this story. I will be building on some of the character's bits in later chapters.

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please RATE and REVIEW! (It makes me happy. I am like that little puppy, shamelessly begging for attention. Please review )

I really hope you enjoyed. All the best to my most awesome readers (that is all of you - cause I see you all :D )

- Raif and Rose fan


	9. Arthur vs The Voice

**A/N:** AYO! How's it going?

Well I've got another chapter for you and it TOATS has A/A fluff. Although, I'm not sure you'll still be calling it fluff once you've finished reading. But it's what I believe you've all been waiting for.

**Disclaimer:** I loaned JGL to Chris Nolan so he could make Batman 3. That is all.

Enjoy!

-RaifandRosefan

* * *

Chapter 9: Arthur vs. The Voice

The next day. Inside the warehouse. The group is assemble around a clear drawing board.

"Our mark is Perot Peradit."

The team looks down at their files to a surveillance photo of a dark man sporting horn rimmed glasses and a sharp gray suit.

"He's a Belgian business man, and it seems he's created a lot of enemies. Our employer, whom we will refer to as Video, has hired us to perform an extraction -"

"Wait a minute. Our employer's name is _Video_?" Zelda interrupts.

Arthur shrugs, "he prefers we call him Video."

Rolling her eyes, Zelda mumbles, "What's his last name? Cassette?" Ariadne laughs, the women share a smile. Eames sits at his desk, away from the group.

Slightly dizzy, the forger is attempting to prepare notes for Zelda. Yusuf sits at his desk, toward the corner of the room, set up will vials and beakers of various sizes. He swirls a sample of clear liquid in a test tube. He is absorbed by the tube's contents.

"Anyway, Video believes Peradit is planning a hostile takeover of his company and that he's sleeping with Peradit's soon-to-be ex-wife. Now, you read the files. Peradit is an expert. He's an expert in weaponology. We're gonna go down two levels, and his subconscious will be armed. This mission has to be stealth. No mistakes this-"

"When do we go in?" Dom interrupts.

"We were supposed to go in today. Peradit had an appointment for a knee surgery, but he rescheduled it for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow it is!" Zelda enthuses.

Ariadne looks at Zelda and Cobb, "I need to go over the layout with the two of you. Some of the physics in the dream are a little different."

"Can't wait to see it, Ariadne," Dom admits, honestly. The group walks over to the architect's enormous desk, located at the center of the warehouse. The abnormally sized desk is covered with hundreds of models - or rather - one really large model.

Ariadne has recreated an entire city out of foam and cardboard. At the center of the city sits a massive square building. Following the architects gaze, the team members survey the building. "It's built like a casino," Ariadne explains. "Designed to keep the dreamer inside."

Ariadne lifts the building out of its place in the large model city. She places it on an adjoining desk. Arthur, Zelda and Cobb watch as Ariadne slowly picks apart the building.

Floor by floor, the building comes apart. Each room is designed to perfection, no detail unattended. The corridors wind and stretch like a multilevel maze. Zelda is momentarily confused when Ariadne explains once facet of the building,

"If the mark is running down this corridor, you can turn around and run the other way. The hallways sort of 'eat' themselves. You'll be running_ at_ the target in a few steps."

"So, it's like running in a circle," Zelda intuits. "You and I may be running in opposite directions-"

"But we'll eventually run into each other," Cobb finishes.

"Right, only - this is not a circle. It's kind of a paradox. You see, you can enter the hallway from the stairs and go in either direction, and you'll end up somewhere new. But, if you enter the hallway from any other point of origin, you'll be trapped on that small circular level." Dom claps his hands together,

"Sounds good, let's go under. So we can see this thing for real-"

"Hold on." Ariadne stops the extractor. "There's one more thing I want to explain before we go under." Dom turns to look at Ariadne who stares down at another level of her building.

Ariadne has lifted away the ceiling of one of her floors. Attached to the ceiling are couches, chairs, lamps - furniture, upside down.

"This third floor is a recreation of the third floor of Peradit's office building. I created a half-level on this floor," Ariadne explains. "It's an exact replica of the office layout, only everything's upside down."

"Walking on the ceiling," Zelda states.

"How do we get to this half-level?" Dom asks.

"You ever walked up a wall before?" They watch Ariadne fawn over her model, adjusting the placement of some furniture.

"I have, actually," Cobb boasts, smugly. He folds his arms over his chest. Zelda eyes him, unimpressed.

"Good. Cause I created a false ceiling. You just keep walking up the wall until you step through the ceiling. Then you walk up the wall of the half level until you reach the floor where you can stand upright, upside-down.

"You'll be able to see what's happening on the floor below you. But they won't be able to see you. I figure you can ambush a projection or the mark if need be."

"So, we'll have to look above us to see what's happening on below us," Zelda states.

"Exactly," Ariadne answers. She puts the building back together and puts it in its place in the model city.

CRASH!

"What now?" Arthur groans as he turns to face the source of the noise.

The group sees Eames on the concrete floor, sitting squarely on his bum. Pencils roll off the desk, onto his head, falling to the floor. Yusuf stops swirling his test tubes. He gapes at the forger sitting sloppily on the floor. Zelda rushes over to the forger, she helps him to his seat. He plops back into his chair. Yusuf, who nearly dropped his test tube in surprise, closes his mouth. He places the vial of clear liquid in its stand.

Zelda stands over the forger, worried. "Eames, are you alright?" He waves his hand dismissively.

"Don't mind me." The forger smiles weakly, "I just got a little dizzy, is all. I'm fine. No, really. I was leaning in my chair. I was asking for it."

Arthur clears his throat. They turn to look at the point man who has returned his focus to the mission, "It's time to go under."

Yusuf emerges from behind his desk. Ariadne, Zelda, Arthur and Cobb position themselves on the lawn chairs around the PASIV. One after the other, they insert the needles. Yusuf depresses the release valve. All around him, his companions drift off to sleep.

Yusuf stands there for a few moments, wondering what to do. _Food. _The chemist looks over at the forger who appears ready to collapse.

"Hey, Eames," Yusuf crosses to Eames. Eames sits with his head in his hands, leaning over his desk.

"Mm?" the forger groans.

"I'm going to step out for a bit, n' get us some lunch. Watch the group for me?" Eames removes his gun from the waist of his pants. He waves the firearm, apathetically, shooing the chemist.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll watch them. Bring me back something good."

Yusuf walks briskly out of the warehouse.

* * *

Inside the dream, Zelda and Ariadne stand on level 3.5. Arthur and Cobb are above them, on the level below.

Arthur looks up at the ceiling. He looks at Dom. The extractor starts,

"She's very good."

"No shit," Arthur replies, in a tone that suggests he's more impressed than he appears to be. He looks back up at the ceiling. "You'd never guess there's another level up there."

Ariadne pokes her head through the ceiling. The architect looks at the extractor and point man.

"Aren't you gonna come up?" the floating face asks. Dom and Arthur look at each other and walk up the wall. They trail behind Ariadne until they too are standing on the floor of level 3.5. Zelda, Ariadne, Cobb and Arthur look up at the third floor below, an exact replica of the floor they are on.

"How do we get out of here?" Zelda asks.

"You can walk up the walls to the floor below or you can-," Ariadne walks over to a large floor lamp. She slides the heavy floor lamp about a foot-and-a-half to the left. In its place sits a whole large enough to fit a grown man. The architect crouches down. "I suggest you go head first. Where we're going is right-side up." Head first, she reaches through the whole.

* * *

On the other side of the whole is the fourth floor, right side up. Ariadne pulls herself up through the whole. Zelda, Cobb and Arthur follow suit.

"Welcome to the fourth floor!" Ariadne exclaims. Arthur, with his head and arms still on the other side of the whole, slides the lamp back into place before standing upright.

The dreamers stand in a dark room. Their footfalls are barely heard against the parquet mahogany flooring. Mahogany walls lined with leather-bound books, and windows shrouded in heavy green velvet draperies finished with gold silk imbue the dark room with an overbearing richness. A green Tiffany lamp glows softly in the corner, atop a far-too-ornate wooden desk. Covering nearly half of one wall in the somber room is a marble fireplace. Flames crackle, casting a dim golden light over the room.

"This is Peradit's study. Located in his apartment," Arthur explains, stepping closer to the architect. Dom looks into the fire, considering something.

Arthur nods in approval to Ariadne. She can almost hear his, 'W_ell done, Ari.'_ She smiles ever so slightly. Arthur returns the smile - his, an intimate gesture. The golden glow of the flames reflects softly against his skin. Something playful dances behind the man's eyes. Zelda watches this. She says nothing. The seer turns to face the fire just as Ariadne begins to feel her gaze. A knot grows in Ariadne's stomach.

Shame. Ariadne is struck by the feeling. She looks back at Arthur. A quiet panic taking root, lingering in her expression. A desperate fear roils in the young woman's chest. Regret. She turns away as the point man lifts his hand to caress her cheek. "Ari, are you okay?" This is private, a secret question. He inches toward the architect. Something is wrong. He knows it. He feels it. "Ari?" he tries to reach her; she won't let him any closer.

_How could you do this to me?_ The voice snaps.

The voice. Again. He is angry with her. Ariadne steps away from the Arthur. She was tired. She couldn't do this anymore.

In an attempt to appear normal, Ariadne walks over to her bookshelves, pretending to survey her own work.

_What do you want, Thomas? _It was him. She knew it. It always was. The voice. The man she'd left behind when everything was over. He was back again, to make this dream a nightmare. But this dream isn't private. There are too many witnesses. There is Arthur. She couldn't let Arthur see her like this.

Ariadne shakes her head. The voice doesn't leave.

_How could you forget me? So soon._ The voice breaks, desperate. _I've been gone only a few months, and you're already moving on._ The voice is angry. Hurt. And very angry. _I loved you, Ari. I. Me. How could you-_

_I'm _sorry_, Thomas. _Her vision blurs. _Please understand. I've been nothing _but_ sorry._ Her expression, one of fear and regret._ If I could change the way things went, I would. Believe me. I would. But I can't keep going like this. I don't want to die! Can't you understand that-?_

_I understand. I understand you don't want to be with me. We could be together, Ari. You and me. We were supposed to be together... _The voice pauses. Ariadne can hardly breathe. The knot in her stomach growing tighter with every inhale. _Did you ever want to be with me!_ The voice shrieks. Ariadne looks around, fearful; to see if anyone has heard. But his words are only meant for her. Her private hell. Arthur turns away from his conversation with the others to look at the architect. The darkness in his eyes deepens when her gaze meets his own. Pain hidden somewhere underneath. Embarrassed, the architect looks away.

_I can't do this, Thomas._ She coughs, masking the choke of tears welling in her throat. _I can't do this with you anymore._

_You don't love me._ The voice concedes, defeated.

_Yes. No. I did. I did love you. But how can I love the dead, Thomas? How can I love what I cannot touch? How can we be anything more than a memory? We aren't anything anymore. You're dead, Thomas. Don't you want me to be happy?_

_I do._ He responds, sadly.

_Then let me go. Let me do this. With Arthur. Please-?_

_I LOVE you!_ He pleads. Venom in his voice. She can almost feel his presence, behind her, in front of her. Between her. She resists it.

_That's not enough, Thomas. Not anymore. I don't want to end up like Cobb. And I don't wanna die. If you love me, you'll let me choose life._

_Not this. Not with _him._ You can't choose him._

_Why? Because he cares? Because he might make me happy-?_

_No!_ She waits. _Because he's the one you've always loved. Because you only wanted me when you couldn't have him. Because it means I never stood a chance. Because it means you might actually-. _He rearranges something. _Because you'll no longer be safe. Because you'll have no more excuses for why you live such an isolated life. Because you'll finally allow yourself to get close to someone who could actually hurt you. And that scares you shitless, Ariadne. _

_Enough, Thomas. _She fights to breathe. Choke._ I've had enough._ His presence leaves her. She exhales.

The architect leans over Peradit's desk. Letting the words sink in.

Fear.

Guilt.

Shame.

Regret.

All wash over her. Consume her. She couldn't face the team now, even if she wanted to. Everyone would know. She knows Arthur already suspects something. _Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven..._ The architect counts to remain calm.

As she reaches one, Dominic turns away from the fireplace to face the group. The whole group. Ariadne schools her expression and turns around.

"In here," Dom starts. "The safe is in here. Peradit will be throwing a party. Arthur and I will pose as business men looking to make a deal. Peradit will bring us into this study. Arthur, will mention putting the contract somewhere 'safe,' as a precaution. And when he leaves us to tend to his other guests. We steal the contract."

"What if it's not here? What if he puts the safe elsewhere?" Arthur asks.

"We mention the safe in the hallway. He'll look in the direction of the room with the safe. As long as we can keep him distracted, we're in the clear. Zelda will play the role of his trusted advisor. She will remain with the Mark for the entire mission. If anything goes wrong, she'll signal us. We'll meet on level three point five. "

"How do we receive the signal?" Ariadne asks. "I mean, what are you gonna use to send and receive it."

Zelda looks sympathetically at the architect. "You mustn't be afraid to dream bigger, love." Just then, an earpiece manifests in her ear, a watch on her wrist. She looks to her teammates; they all wear the watch and ear piece, it appearance changing subtly to match the individual's own clothing.

"Testing. Testing. One, Two, Three." Zelda says into her watch. The sound reverberates in Ariadne's ear. She searches for the volume-adjust on her watch. Apparently it was also too loud for the others because she sees Dom and Arthur also lowering the volume on their watches.

"Right. Well that works." Zelda turns to face Cobb once more. The headsets and watches disappear.

Ariadne doesn't say a word for the remainder of Dom's speech. Arthur watches the architect. Some part of her his fading. And he may be the only one aware of it.

Dom turns to Ariadne. "Ariadne, can you show us the rest of the city?"

"Yes," the small woman says, taking the lead.

* * *

The stairwell is dark and full of shadows. Zelda looks over the banister. Her mind wandering to the possible number of paradoxes which must exist between where she stands and the ground floor. Two thousand flights of stairs bend in a never ending loop, all the way to the bottom.

"I thought we were only on the fourth floor." Zelda puzzles.

"We are," Ariadne explains. "There are two thousand flights between here and the ground floor."

"Dream physics." Dom offers.

"You must've been on acid when you designed this," Zelda complains. Ariadne scoffs, unimpressed.

Dom starts down the steps-. "Wait," Ariadne turns to the door through which they entered the stairwell. She stops just short of the door. She places her hand deliberately on a seemingly unimportant section of wall. As she pushes, a small section of the wall depresses. A light scans her hand and then flickers off.

"I created a faster way to get to the ground floor. Scan your hands in there." She points to the wall.

"What'll that do?" Zelda asks as she and Dom scan their hands.

"A fire poll," Arthur chips in. Ariadne avoids his probing gaze as he walks to stand next to her. She can almost feel the warmth of his chest. "It'll create a fire poll at the center of the stairwell. You grab on and slide down. It'll only work if you've previously been scanned." Arthur swings his legs over the banister.

"If I didn't know better," Zelda starts. "I would swear you were about to commit suicide."

"Good thing you know better," Arthur retorts.

From the other side of the banister, the point man turns to face the architect. She doesn't avoid eye contact this time. She can't. Something hot and ebony, like sadness and desire, burns in the point man's eyes. She sees this for only a second as Arthur has turned around once more. He jumps off the edge of the staircase, a brass poll manifesting between his capable hands. He slides, new feet of poll continuously solidifying then disappearing, down to the ground floor.

"When you've slid down a length," Ariadne explains, "It disappears so no one can follow behind you." Ariadne follows Arthur over the railing and down the poll. Dom follows suit.

"You young people are going to be the death of me," Zelda whines, swinging her legs over the banister. Deep breath. Pause. She jumps. To her surprise, a golden cylinder appears between her hands and legs. Air rushes around her, her hair flying in every direction. A light giddy feeling. In her stomach. Something like excitement. Bubbles up. A sharp squeal escapes the seer's lips. Laughter. _This is fun_, she thinks. A smiles spreads across her lips.

Landing, Zelda finds the others staring at her smirking. Ariadne approaches, "See? It's not so bad! You don't have to climb down those stairs. You're going too fast for any bullets to catch you, and the landing's soft. "

"Yes," Zelda nods. She is ready to see the rest of the city. Ariadne walks back to the front of the group. She opens the door of the building. They are blinded by the light.

* * *

Up above, Eames snores loudly into his arms. He is face down on his desk, Yusuf has returned with lunch.

Everything is fried. Fried chicken, fried potatoes, Eames' brain. Everything is fried. And it smells delicious. The scintillating scent wakes Eames from his slumber. Yusuf plops a hot greasy bag of food in front of the weary forger. In seconds, Eames has crammed ten percent of his meal into his mouth - despite the searing pain in his jaw. Yusuf sets a tray of drinks on an empty table.

"Thank you, Yusuf," The forger enthuses.

"I told you to watch them. Not fall asleep." Yusuf says, feigning displeasure.

"Yeah, yeah. They're fine. They're asleep." He swallows. He stuffs a fry into his mouth.

Yusuf walks over to the sleeping members of his team. He checks the PASIV. 10 seconds left.

He looks from the extractor to the seer to the point man. Finally, his gaze lands on the architect. He sees something there that unsettles him.

"What?" the forger asks, noting Yusuf's change in demeanor. "What's wrong?" Eames cranes his neck to follow the chemist's gaze. It's Ariadne. The forger gets up from his seat. Carrying his greasy bag of food, he crosses the warehouse to where Yusuf is standing. Both the forger and the chemist look down at a sleeping Ariadne.

"What the bloody hell is going on down there?" Eames asks, mystified. He shoves a fry into his mouth. He chews.

"Something's wrong with Ariadne." Yusuf folds his arms, resting his chin in his hand. They stare down at her.

The architect lies motionless on the cot. Her face locked in a silent scream. Her fingers bent, ready to claw their eyes out.

Dom and Zelda wear peaceful expressions. Arthur appears focused and confused. "Something's going on down there." Eames states, turning his back to walk to his desk. Yusuf stays. "Something's not right."

* * *

Back under, Dom and Zelda run down a city street. They are scouting out good places to hide. Ariadne walks in the middle of the street, looking to either side at the buildings she's created.

She stops to look at a tree. It isn't as large and lush as she'd imagined. Under her watchful eye, the tree begins to grow. Beneath her feet, the Earth shakes. She can feel the rumble of roots extending. The sound of bending and snapping accompanies the stretching of tree limbs as the trunk of the tree expands. Looming larger. Leaves bristle in the cool breeze she commands. Branches stretch. Snap. Grow. New leaves appear. Larger the tree grows. Snap. Blossoms, the tree in covered in white blossom. Branches stretch until the tree is nearly fifteen feet high.

Arthur walks up behind the architect. He has just seen Ariadne cause a tree to grow. His tie flies about in her wind. She can feel the rumble of a chuckle in the point man's chest, she cannot hear it. Her breeze drowns out all sound. Ariadne stares at the tree, trying to keep her composure. From behind, Arthur wraps his arms around the small woman, his breath tickling her ear. "It's beautiful," he utters in a deeply personal tone. She feels the words die in his chest. His warmth, as his arms wrap tighter around her. "What's wrong, Ari?" He whispers, kissing her ear. The architect shakes her head. "What happened?" A limp sound, a whimper, escapes the architect's throat. Nothing else.

_Ari_, The voice calls. She doesn't answer.

"Ari?" Arthur asks, in her ear. She does not answer. "Ari." He pleads. Arthur looks up at the tree, its white blossoms stare back at him. Hoping. Waiting. He looks down at the architect. She stares at her hands. They are trembling. Arthur grabs them in his own. "Ari, what happened to you? What's wrong?" Silence. "Please," he pleads, "let me help you," he whispers. But she is far away again.

_Ari, _The voice, his voice, calls. _You're not ready to let go of me. You still love me._

_I barely knew you_, she retorts, _I don't know you, anymore._

_But you miss me. You love me._ He says. Pleasure in his voice.

Arthur looks down the street. Dom and Zelda are blocks ahead, running into a glass building. "Dom..." he whispers. _Fuck!_ Arthur seethes. _Fuck!_

He's seen Ariadne's paralysis before. In Dom. He's seen what it does to a person. Their world stops turning. The future doesn't exist. Only the past. Only. The pain. He turns Ariadne to face him. She stares at her hands. "Ari. Ari!" He jostles her. Hoping to wake her gently.

_You can't leave me, t_he voice cries. _You don't want to leave! I won't let you go!_

_No! Thomas, please! I can't stay here. With you. Not like this. I can't get stuck in some dream where you don't really exist! Do you want me to die?_

_You killed me._ He weeps. _You knew they were coming for me, and you never told me-._

_I couldn't fight them. You couldn't fight them. There was no way to stop it._ _I thought we were all dead. The whole team. They found Duncan in Sweden. They found us, Thomas. And they want to kill me too. Don't you get it?"_

_What kind of love gives up and leaves a person for dead, Ariadne?_

_I didn't know they would get you so quickly. _She cries. _I didn't know it'd be over so fast!_

_You killed me, Ari._

_No. No _they_ did. I'm sorry..._

_You killed me-_

"Ari! Ariadne, please!" Arthur shakes Ariadne. His voice breaking through the architect's tortured haze.

The point man watches the architect come to. Her eyes blink. Slowly, she looks up at the point man. From beneath the haze she sees Arthur. Desperate, worried Arthur. But Arthur still. A flicker of hope dances in his eyes. A sad flicker of hope.

Something honest, a little bit raw, something real, and dark, fills the point man's features. Emotion, somewhat like understanding with a hint of desire, brims over the edge. In that moment, Arthur kisses her.

He catches her lower lip with his in a strong, hungry, kiss. Something daring and aggressive. He pulls her into him, cradling her, pressing her into him. Willing her lips to open, to accept him. She does this. His lips move earnestly, sucking hers. Willing her awake. Willing her back to him. He breathes. He works, tugging and sucking. All to bring her back to him. To connect her to him. Until, his need for nearness becomes her own. She moans. Ariadne pulls him down, onto her. They stagger backward, into the tree. He reaches out, steadying them.

They continue. He slides between her thighs. She moans. Grinding against her. Rubbing her, sucking her. She pulls his hair, bites his lip. Licking. Sucking. Pulling her shirt. He presses. Harder. He pulls her hair. She gasps. Kissing her neck. She shudders. She laughs. He sucks harder and harder. Her neck. Her chest. She lifts his face. In her eyes there is sadness, weary, a moment of joy. She kisses him, tasting his lips, sucking his mouth. Biting him. He holds her tight against him. His warmth. His hard, strong warmth. Pinning her down. He pulls away. She misses him. His hand caresses her cheek. Making its way down her neck. Stopping there. He is between her thighs. Near enough to feel. He leans in slowly, watching her expression change. She leans out for a kiss. He stops her. She misses him again. Near enough to taste the mint on his breath, "Don't stop," she mumbles. He smiles. He bites her lip playfully before pulling away entirely. She stands up, adjusting her shirt, the neckline is stretched.

"I needed to get you back," he says, looking down the street. He smoothes his hair back into place. He turns to Ariadne. She is disappointed. "But I did enjoy it," He promises, smiling. Somehow, his clothes are not half as wrinkled as her own. Ariadne looks down the street to the building Dom and Zelda are exiting.

"I'm sorry," she says. "There's a lot on my mind."

"A lot of _guilt_?" he asks, all too knowing.

"Yeah," she admits, relenting.

He turns to her, darkness in his eyes. "It happens, Ari. We can't let it get to us. Or else it consumes us, and we end up... like Dom.

Ariadne nods, wishing the words made her feel better, but they don't. And he knows it. But the truth hurts. Always.

Dom and Zelda make their way to the tree. Zelda eyes both Ariadne and Arthur. Arthur looks at the woman. She's seen everything, without looking; he knows it. She offers him a respectful nod. He nods; then turns to Dom, who is preoccupied with details of the mission. He babbles on and on, only Ariadne listens.

After a brief pause, Zelda gives Dom some previously unknown information. The extractor is forced to amend his plan to accommodate the new info. A seer was good for these things.

"I think time's up," Arthur states, coolly. And sure enough, the world begins to crumble. Ariadne's tree falls over to crush them.

* * *

They wake. The architect's mouth snaps shut. She rubs her hands together. Her fingers are oddly sore.

"Welcome back," the forger enthuses sardonically.

"How's the plan looking?" the chemist asks. His eyes shift between Arthur and Ariadne, and come to rest on Dominic Cobb.

"We're all set for tomorrow." The extractor clasps his hand together, to grabs a bag of lunch and a drink, bringing it over to his desk, where he sits to eat.

"I'll be in the bathroom," Eames announces, "if anyone needs me." The forger rises from his chair, walking slowly to the bathroom. They pay him no attention.

"Ari," Arthur nudges the architect, "can I talk to you?"

"Sure," Ariadne nods. Dom and calls Zelda and Yusuf over to his desk to work out a few details regarding the mission's sedative. Arthur and Ariadne make their way over to one of her desks. A cleaner, less crowded one. Arthur gestures for her to take a seat before sitting himself atop the desk.

"What's going on?" he asks. "I know something's wrong," he whispers. "I've seen this before." He hesitates, "... I've seen what can happen."

The architect looks up at him, not feeling the need to explain herself. "Look, I'm not asking you to pour your heart out," he states. "All I'm saying is that whatever's eating you up inside is dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I know-"

A loud thud. From the bathroom. The team stops, mid-action.

_The fuck?_

It takes them little time to ascertain someone's missing. Eames. They make a b-line for the bathroom, where the forger escaped to take a leak. Yusuf busts open the door. Eames lies on the floor, unconscious. It appears he hit his head on the edge of the sink.

The warehouse is all a fuss. Zelda and Yusuf curse like sailors as Dom grabs his keys to take Eames to a local 'doctor,'

"What other choice do we have?" He gestures toward Ariadne, "As we've seen, public hospitals are off-limits. We've gotta take him to our doctor."

Their 'doctor'was a woman who ran a series of underground (read: illegal) medical clinics in Europe and South America. No paperwork meant no trail that would bring The Council to their doorstep. To Ariadne.

Zelda crouches beside the motionless forger. "Eames! Eames, dear. Wake up. Mowgli. Mowgli, please honey." Zelda shakes the forger. Urging him to wake up.

"He must've had another dizzy spell," Arthur concludes.

_Urgh, _Dom bristles. His hand wipes over his face. "I'd be surprised if this fall doesn't give him a concussion."

"Concussion!" Zelda shrieks, whipping around to meet the extractor's gaze. "He could be in a bloody coma! For god's sake! Concussion. That's the least of our worries," she snaps.

"I was trying to look on the bright side," he offers.

Yusuf examines the forger quickly, "Good news. He's still breathing like normal."

"See," Dom insists, "the bright side." Yusuf and Arthur get into place on either side of the forger. They lift him on... three. Ariadne and Zelda watch the dreamers drag the forger out of the warehouse. Follow them out to Dom's rented vehicle, where they lay Eames in the back seat.

"I'm doing too many of these emergency trips," Arthur states absently, into his palm. Zelda eyes him angrily,

"Well, you don't have to come if it's such a burden," she seethes.

"No. Zelda, that's not what I meant-"

"No," Dom stops him, "It's alright. You look tired. The three of us will handle this." Dom looks from Ariadne to Arthur. "You and Ariadne close up shop. Take the spare key and head over to the BP. We'll meet you there." Dom tosses Arthur the key.

"You sure you don't need me?" Arthur asks, catching the key. He looks at the key for a moment. Dom's silence is enough of an answer. He and Ariadne step back as Dom, Yusuf and Zelda drive away, headed for The Doctor.

Ariadne is the first to turn back, heading for the warehouse.

* * *

**A/N:** This was a fairly dark one, huh? Well, it what felt right when I wrote it. Wait 'til you read the next chapter!

I hope you like the A/A - It took FOREVER for me to write (not my forté) but I hope it was at least somewhat pleasing to you.

You know the drill. RATE. REVIEW. And I will LOVE YOU forever (in a totally non-stalker-ish way). Please. (I wanna know if this went too far. Is Ariadne going crazy? or is she just cracking under the pressure of certain death - a kind of break on can recover from?) Do you hate Thomas?

-R&Rf


	10. Ariadne Undone

**A/N:** 2nd update in less than 1 day! Shocker, I know.

But I was on fire and I couldn't stop for anything (not even to use the potty - yes, I still use that phrase).

**WARNING:** This chapter is dark and contains some tough (read: triggering) material. Do not read if you are sensitive to SI. But if you love a good angsty storyline... by all means, read on!

**Disclaimer:** Sometimes, I dream about playing with puppies - I'VE BEEN INCEPTED! (this should be like the paranoid parrot meme)

Enjoy!

- RaifandRosefan

* * *

Chapter 10: Ariadne Undone

_You did this to him, Ari. You did this. This is all your fault. You did this. You did this to him. YOU HURT EVERYBODY YOU LOVE! You did this to him you did this to him. You-_

_Enough. I've had enough! You _will not_ be the end of me. I am DONE, Thomas. We're over. I don't love you anymore._

_You. Did this. To him._ He smiles.

* * *

Ariadne and Arthur enter the warehouse. Arthur watches the young architect. She looks on the verge of a kind of breakdown. Like a teakettle ready to erupt.

"FUUUUHHCK." She kicks over one of three trashcans sitting next to her desk.

"FUCK THIS," she yells, her barely contained anger surging through her.

Her face is red. Her breathing, intense. Her expression, eerily non descript. _Something's very wrong._

Arthur watches her, patiently. "This is what we do, Ari," he explains.

Moments pass.

"The extractions... inception. We're agents of a larger plan. We're soldiers. We do our job. We follow orders-"

"And we get dumped at the end of the mission with _**all**_ _our_ _issues_ and _no_ _one_ to help us," her voice, full of venom.

"The life of a soldier," he concedes.

"The life of a goddamn soldier."

Ariadne paces in the space between her desk and the nearest lawn chair,

"What kind of life is this? You spend all your time escaping death, only to wish you were dead when all is said and done.

"You know what? Fuck this. Fuck inception. Fuck dream share. Just fuck it!" She forces. "I'd rather die!"

"You don't want that."

"_Oh_, so now you know what I want." If looks could kill.

"I know you don't want to die."

"Really? Because I'm not so sure anymore. People keep getting hurt or dying because of me." She pauses, "there's so much for everyone to lose."

"Ari, that's not your fault."

"'Fuck it's not! Cobb's got kids. Yusuf's got a wife. Zelda. Your Ex. I know she means something to you, Arthur. You could lose her because of me."

"I already lost her, long before you had anything to do with it."

A cloud hovers over Ariadne, darkening her expression. Arthur continues,

"Ari, everyone knew the risk coming in. We knew this would be hard."

"It's not hard. It's fucking impossible."

"And we're prepared for it."

"Are we? Because people are getting hurt, Arthur! All because I had to take some stupid job. I've got too many dead bodies on my conscience!"

"So do I."

"Yeah, but I'm not you, Arthur. I'm not a killing machine. I can't just shoot someone and keep going."

"You think it doesn't affect me? You think I LIKE killing people-?"

"When's the last time you thought twice before pulling the trigger?"

"I don-"

"On someone else. When's the last time you hesitated, before shoving a hollow point in someone's eye?"

"Ari."

"Answer the question."

"I don't know. A while."

Arthur tries to read Ariadne's thoughts. Her eyes reflect no light.

Fire burns beneath the silence.

Ariadne is sharp as a blade. Her serrated edges waiting eagerly to pierce his flesh, remove his heart.

"Arthur, I'm barely alive," she utters.

"You're just tired."

"No, I mean it."

"You've gotten 15 hours of sleep this whole week."

"Arthur, just-"

"Ariadne-"

"No! I MEAN it." The architect stands behind her desk. She looks ready to kill - someone, anyone - **him**. She glances at a soup can full of pencils on her desk. "I only feel something when I'm in pain."

She runs her delicate finger along the can's sharp edge. She looks at him, "I'm fucking dead already, Arthur." She knocks the can of pencils off her desk. CRACK! Arthur just barely contains his surprise. The tin crashes to the floor, metal on concrete, the clatter lingers in the echoing warehouse. Pencils roll. Red with fury and breathing heavily, Ariadne turns away from the can, leaning over her desk.

"-The fuck is wrong with me?"

Ariadne turns to sit against the edge of her desk. She stares into space once more. On purpose, Ariadne bangs her forearm against the edge of her desk. Totems be damned.

_BMMF._

_BMMF._

_BMMF._

The sound is hypnotic. _She'll break that arm, if I don'-"_

She stops. Ariadne looks at Arthur. Her eyes are cold, icy. The point man expected tears. There are none. "What's wrong with me?" She asks, emotionless.

The point man strides over to the architect. He wraps his arms around her, from behind, as if to shield her from herself. Ariadne fights his hold. "Get off me," she snarls.

"No. It's gonna be okay, Ari. We'll get through this."

"Get off me!" Ariadne screams. She struggles against the strong arms holding her in. "Fuck you!" She kicks the air. The point man falls back against her desk, still holding Ariadne.

"You don't mean that. You're just upset."

"No," she bends down, forcing Arthur to lift her weight, "I mean it. I **MEAN** IT! Get the fuck off me!" Her voice breaks in a demonic scream, a primal cry of misery. "Fuck you! Fuck all of you!"

"It's okay, Ari. Everything's going to be okay."

"No, it's not! Nothing is okay," she scratches at Arthur's hands and arms, beating them with her fists and kicking the air. They fall tothe floor. On his feet, Arthur grabs her once more and carries her flailing body over to the desk.

"Calm down, Ari."

"No! Let me go. I need to go! You'd be better off if I wasn't here."

"No, Ari. That's not true." Arthur contemplates what to do. What comes to mind is either too violent or potentially life threatening. He'll have to reason with her. Ariadne's head flies backward into Arthur's nose.

Stars.

Ariadne screams, using all her force to claw the point man's arms away from her.

"Ari, **Ari**! Listen. Just, LIST-EN to me! Please"

"No!" She screams. She beats at his arms. He will not let her go. Arthur fights to pin down Ariadne's arms. She growls and groans, fighting to free herself. Arthur won't let go.

Ariadne screams. An animalistic scream. Desperate wails escape from the wild half-human writhing in Arthur's arms. Anguish. Sorrow. Guilt. Tearing through her body, bursting through her lungs, crashing through the warehouse.

Ariadne fights the point man, her struggle bearing less ferocity. Arthur leans against her desk, Ariadne continues to push at his arms. "You're going to be okay, Ari," he soothes, saddened and fearful for the small woman in his arms.

"Fuck you, Arthur. Fuck you."

"I know."

Ariadne cries a loud tearless cry. Inhale. Pained, beastly sounds escape from deep within the architect.

She shudders, ready for collapse. All attempts to resist the point man stop as Ariadne's body fights itself, struggling to breathe. Arthur pulls her tighter into him. The point man's warmth, like a beacon, anchors her to a reality she has left. Ariadne is only vaguely aware of Arthur's closeness, of the mint on his breath, of his cheek pressed warmly against her ear, of his form wrapped lovingly around her ravaged body, like a blanket. Ariadne is crippled by her anguish. Broken. Arthur steadies his breathing. Ariadne lets her own fall in sync with his. She continues to shudder and shake in Arthur's embrace.

Minutes pass.

Arthur maintains his steady breathing, keeping pace for the two of them. Ariadne drifts into a heavy dreamless sleep. Her face fixed in a tortured expression.

Arthur carries the broken woman over to a lawn chair. He lays her body down to rest. Arthur sits on the floor next to her. His bruised and bloody arms swell with pain.

The pain slowly engulfs him.

* * *

Just outside the warehouse, Dom stands in front of a window. He has seen everything. Thinking it safe to enter, the extractor opens the heavy warehouse door.

At the sound of metal gears turning, Arthur jumps to his feet, sliding down his shirt sleeves.

Arthur babbles, "Oh, uh, did Zelda forget something?" he chuckles dryly.

Nonchalantly, Arthur strides over to his desk to take a seat.

"Don't pretend, Arthur. I saw enough."

Feeling exposed, the point man tries to save face. "She's just tired. She hasn't slept well."

"She's suicidal," Dom explains sadly. But Arthur already knew that.

They say nothing.

Sitting in his chair, Arthur puts his elbows on the desk, his head cradled in his hands. Dom sees the spots of blood on Arthur's sleeve. They grow larger and more crimson. His fingers bleed. Drops of blood slide down the back of his hand.

"She tore the hell out of your arms," Dom observes.

"I know."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"And say what?" Arthur snaps.

"Anything." Dom pauses, "Are you okay?"

Arthur growls into his hands, "Do I look okay?" He looks angrily at the extractor. Behind Arthur's eyes, Dom sees a mix of heavy emotions, to which Arthur will never willingly admit. The point man buries his face in his hands.

The silence is loud. Arthur breathes deeply as he fights to remain calm. Dom watches the rise and fall of his shoulders.

"She'll be okay," Dom reassures.

"Not if she kills herself," Arthur spits. He sits up, turning to look at Dom. Arthur leaves a smear of blood behind on his desk. "We're fighting for a life she doesn't even want." Broken. Dom sees Arthur. He is almost broken.

"She wants to live. She just needs help remembering." Dom pulls up a chair next to Arthur. He sits, "Don't give up Arthur. She loves you."

"She doesn't even love herself."

Dom nods, "strange how that works, isn't it? She'll pull through. We all will."

Arthur turns back to his desk, rifling through papers. Dom takes this as his cue to leave. He gets up, walking to his work station. Just as he sits down, Arthur demands one more thing of him,

"Tell me something."

"What?"

"Is it all worth it? Was it worth it for the kids? For Mal? Was it all worth it?"

Dom resists the urge to shut down. The pain of the past few years is still strong. But this is Arthur. His best friend. He's hurting, a fact he will never admit to, and now is not the time to be selfish.

"Yes. Everything. It's all worth it."

Arthur locks this knowledge deep within himself. He repeats the phrase in his mind. Repetition, a soothing balm, numbing ooze, dulling the pain of many unseen wounds.

Arthur looks over at Ariadne, who remains asleep in the lawn chair. Her face, still bearing a mangled and tortured expression.

* * *

**A/N:** For anyone wondering why Dom reappeared, my tought was that he was returning to get something for Eames. That was left at his desk. The car is parked just outside.

I hope you all recover from this chapter. If anyone has taken offence to the sensitive topic written about in this chapter. I apologize for offending you, but believe me, I did not write this lightly.

There's tons more I've got stored up - much lighter fare - that I know you'll enjoy.

Rate. Review.

-R&Rf


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